Fallen, Book 2: Knott in Need
by The Urban Spaceman
Summary: Given free rein by Bobby Singer to help humanity in the run up to the impending apocalypse, the fallen grigori Avariel brings her heavenly powers to a small, drought-ridden town in the Midwest. Can she discover who is behind the dark forces at work and undo the damage caused? And is trying to restore humanity's faith in her father merely an exercise in futility?
1. Visionary

_Author__'s Note: Ideally, you should read Book 1 (Angles, Angels Everywhere) before reading this. If you've already read Book 1, you might want to recap by scanning the last chapter. I've been a little remiss with my Supernatural publishing of late._

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_**Fallen**_

_**Book 2: Knott in Need**_

Chapter 1

_- Visionary -_

The street was named Main Street. Avariel didn't know which town it was in, but it didn't matter. She looked around, examining the shop fronts, and selected the store named Kennedy's Antiques. She had observed over the years that many antique sellers were friendly little old men. Just the type of person she needed right now.

She entered the shop and a bell above the door chimed merrily – of course. Inside, the building was full of old things; chairs, clocks, vases, rugs, items of jewelry in glass cases, myriad odds and ends of differing values. These 'antiques', as humans called them, were the possessions of previous generations. To humans, they were old things, but to Avariel, they were barely worth looking at. They would be gone in a blink of her heavenly eyes, leaving nothing behind but dust. Even now they gave off a musty smell of age which tickled the nose of her vessel. Yet despite their age, they were little more than the toys and trinkets of a child-race. There was nothing here that was anywhere near as old as Ava herself.

"Hello there, young lady," said a cheerful voice. The man behind the counter had white hair and wore a woollen sweater. He peered at her from behind wire-rimmed glasses. "Can I help you?"

Avariel smiled, not only because she had been correct in her guess about the nature of the proprietor, but because of his words. Had he known what she truly was, he would have fallen to his knees and praised her name. It was a surprisingly pleasing thought, and she quickly pushed it away. She didn't want humans to praise her. She wanted them to praise God. She had to remember the bigger picture. She had a mission to complete; God's mission, and her own. She had already taken out an insurance policy against Heavenly interference. Now, she had real work to do.

"Good morning, sir," she said, because she had observed that people in general responded best to politeness. "I'm sorry to bother you like this, but I need to contact my brother regarding urgent family business, and I wondered if I could use your telephone to make a brief call."

"Heh, I thought all you kids these days had cell phones?" he chuckled.

"I am different. Cell phones are an invasion of privacy, and I do not like being at the beck and call of everybody who has my number. Unfortunately, an emergency has arisen, and I find myself in need of a telephone."

"Hmm. Well, in that case, of course you can use my phone."

He slid the handset across the counter, and she dialled the sequence of numbers taught to her by Bartholomew. The numbers she had remembered above all else, upon leaving Heaven. One ring. Two rings. Three rings. Then, a man's voice answered.

"Hello?"

"It's Avariel," she said. "I have a human body, now. Where should I meet you?"

"How do I know it's really you? Do you have the pass-phrase?"

"The dove has flown the nest," she replied promptly.

"Good. I'm at the Masonic Hotel in New York. Penthouse suite. Come now. Don't be followed."

"Of course. I will be in New York in less than thirty seconds."

The line clicked off, and Avariel handed the phone back to the antiques man. He was staring at her with his mouth open, with one of those looks on his face that suggested he thought she was a lunatic.

"Thank you for the use of your telephone," she told him. "God appreciates your assistance in this matter. You walk with his blessing."

She teleported immediately, arriving in an empty elevator inside the Masonic Hotel. The button for the top floor was dark, so she pressed it, and it lit up with a small glow. She smiled to herself. She was starting to get the hang of this 'mortal' stuff. It wasn't all as difficult as she'd thought it would be, but of course, she had her vessel's input as well.

When she reached the top floor, and found the door to the penthouse, she paused for a moment, readying herself. She had been waiting for this moment since she had left Heaven. Since before she had left Heaven, even. This was the main reason why she was here. She knocked on the door, and after a few seconds it was opened by a buxom blonde woman wearing nothing but a skimpy leopard-print bikini. Briefly, Ava engaged what Dean called her 'Watcher-vision', and saw the woman for what she really was; an illusion made flesh. Not a real human at all.

"Take me to your leader," she said, and was amused by her own joke.

The woman opened the door wide to allow Avariel entrance, and then the door was closed behind her. The room she found herself in was sumptuous, all mahogany and silk. A bottle of expensive wine was open on the sideboard, next to a chocolate fountain and a pile of marshmallows. At first Avariel thought she was alone, then she saw the man on the bed, wrapped in a gold silk dressing gown. Another of the scantily clad women was caressing his hair fondly.

"So, you made it," he said, propping himself up to look at her. His floppy brown hair reminded her a little of Sam, though she could see that he wasn't anywhere near as tall as the youngest Winchester. "Nice vessel. Virgin, right?"

"Yes," she said, examining the man in front of her a little more closely. There was nothing outstanding about him; he was of average height and average appearance, though his hazel eyes were pleasant enough. He was not what she had been expecting to see. She had always thought that her master would have gone for something a little more... upmarket.

"Good choice. You're going to have a lot of fun with that one." He clapped his hands and sat up. Both of the illusionary women disappeared, though the wine and the chocolate fountain remained. Avariel suspected the women would make a reappearance later, when she was gone. "Tell me everything."

"Where would you like me to start?" she asked. There was rather a lot for her to talk about.

"With why it took you so damn long to get here. I was beginning to worry that Michael had turned you to his cause." The look he gave her was one of suspicion, and it hurt her a little to see it in his eyes. It was not entirely unexpected, though, and she was used to the mistrust by now. Other angels mistrusted her, and the few humans she'd met so far hadn't exactly been throwing their trust at her either.

"Of course not, Gabriel," she said. "I was simply delayed by events outside my control. I am loyal to you. I always have been, and you will have my loyalty until the end of time."

"I'm sure." He sat up and looked closely at her. Avariel resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably; she did not enjoy being scrutinised by an arch-angel, even if he was her master. "Who else are you loyal to?"

"God, of course, even above you," she said without hesitation. "And I have also sworn an oath of obedience to Bobby Singer."

"You swore yourself to a drunken crippled hunter?"

"It was necessary," she assured him. "The Winchesters and Castiel trapped me in a circle of holy fire."

"Yes, those mooks have a nasty habit of doing that," he scowled.

"Swearing an oath of obedience to Bobby was the best way of earning their trust. Would you have preferred me to swear such an oath to Dean, or heavens forbid, Sam?"

"God, no," he replied with an exaggerated shiver of horror. "Well, what's done is done. At least tell me you're still keeping an eye on their pet angel."

"Two, in fact." She let her eyes change back to their normal silver colour for a moment, before they became Katie's blue ones once more.

"Good." He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Word on the grapevine is you kicked Zach's ass all the way back to heaven."

"The spell worked as planned, and the sword helped," she admitted. "Thank you for leaving it where I could find it."

"Where is it now?"

"Somewhere safe," she said with a smile.

"Ahh. So that's how it's going to be, is it?" He gave her a look that was slightly approving, though whether he approved of her thinking for herself or the gall she showed in standing up to him, she did not know.

"I may have further use for it. If you ask for it back I will retrieve it for you immediately, of course," she replied truthfully. Both the spell and the sword had been Gabriel's idea; he had told her how to cast the incantation, as well as retrieved the Sword of Damocles for her. She had been able to leave that part out, when recounting where it had come from to Bobby, Castiel and the Winchesters.

He gave her a long look of speculation, then shrugged. "Keep it, for the moment. Like you said, you may find it useful. Now, tell me what you intend to do about my Plan."

"For the moment, nothing. They are going their own way, doing what they feel is necessary. I have been tasked by Bobby with helping the humans of this planet, protecting them from the fallout of this apocalypse and saving them from themselves in general, so I intend to do that for a while. I have already saved a child from being run over by a bus, and saved a pod of whales from being killed by whalers. I have exorcised several demons and put a ghost to rest. I seem to have an... affinity... for this role. I am considering becoming a hunter."

"Really? You? A hunter?" There was deep skepticism in his eyes. And humour. Rather a lot of it, in fact.

"Why not?"

"I didn't think you'd like the lifestyle. Always on the move, always lonely, putting your life in danger all the time. Having to put up with other knuckle-head hunters. You've seen the calibre of person that the job attracts. Wouldn't you rather stay with me?"

She gave his request a long moment of consideration. Ever since he had entered his voluntary exile, he had been cut off from other angels, speaking only to Bartholomew, and then herself, and only infrequently. Whether he was lonely she did not know; could arch-angels even get lonely? He at least seemed to be capable of entertaining himself, if the women and the chocolate fountain were anything to go by. But he wanted to return to Heaven; that was why he had come up with The Plan in the first place. For as long as his brothers fought each other, he couldn't return. He hated the conflict, hated the arguments, and dreaded being forced to pick sides. He loved his older brothers equally... and was irritated by them equally, too. She would do anything within her power to help him... and if that meant staying by his side, keeping him company and serving his every whim, she would do it. He was the reason she was here. Bartholomew had started the grigori rebellion for him. Avariel had continued it for him. And he had made it possible, through a conveniently planted loophole in the Decree, for her to come to Earth and take a vessel. Those in Heaven may have labelled her 'traitor', 'rebel' and 'fallen', but in her heart she still served God, and she was all that was left of the Order of Gabriel.

"I suspect there is much you can teach me," she replied, "and if you instruct me to stay, I will."

"Hmm." He subjected her to a very long scrutinising stare. She was very proud that she did not fidget under his gaze. Then, he waved his hand dismissively. "Nah. You go. You've got that look about you. The pious 'I want to help the humans' look, and I'd only hold you back from doing that. Can I offer you a piece of advice, though?"

"Please do."

"Hide what you are," he said. "Humans like the Winchesters and their allies accept that angels exist because they have first-hand experience of the supernatural. The rest of them, however, will not be so open-minded. Humans tend to fear what they don't understand, and they're in constant need of answers. If they find out what you are, they'll expect you to have answers, and they will get angry if you don't have those answers. If they find out what you are, they'll expect you to help them constantly, and if you don't help them, they will get violent, and then you'll be forced to hurt them. Save yourself that trouble. Try to pass as a human, if you can. Do nothing to raise suspensions. It will be better for everyone."

"I see."

It was not what she'd had in mind when Bobby had told her to help people. Surely she could do more good by being herself and working in the name of God, couldn't she? After all, that was one of the main reasons she was here. Humans were losing their beliefs, and she needed to reassure them that the heavenly Father did exist, even if she had no idea where he was, even if he no longer cared for Earth or Heaven.

"Ah well, you'll figure it out in time, I'm sure. You will keep me apprised of any changes with the Winchesters?"

"Of course, Gabriel." She hesitated for a moment. She knew that their meeting was coming to an end, and she did not know how long it would be before they could meet again. There was something she wanted to talk to him about, but she wasn't sure how he would take it. She was, after all, just a grigori.

He seemed to sense her reticence. "Spit it out," he said.

"I would like to save Sam and Dean Winchester," she said firmly.

"Oh. Developed a soft spot for them, have we? Was it Dean's rugged good looks, or Sam's pleading puppy-dog eyes that did it?"

"Neither. I just feel... protective... of them."

Gabriel shrugged. "I honestly don't know if they can be saved. I have nothing against it, of course. If our plan can be carried out, and Michael and Lucifer trapped without killing or trapping those two hairless monkeys, that's fine by me. Give it a try, if you like. I won't stop you."

"Thank you," she said, bowing low.

"Yes, yes. My mercy knows no limits." He clicked his fingers and the two illusionary women reappeared. "Now, you'll have to excuse me. I was in the middle of something before you arrived. Have you got a cell phone yet?"

"No, and I have no desire to possess one," she said curtly.

"No need to be snippy. I'll summon you the old fashioned way if I need you, then."

"As you wish."

She teleported away without a destination in mind, and found herself standing at the top of the Empire State building. It was empty, too windy for visitors to be outside today, but to Avariel, the wind was invigorating. Up here, high above the ground, she could close her eyes and almost feel as if she was close to Heaven. She took a deep breath, enjoying the feeling of fresh air in the lungs of her vessel, and she thought back to everything that had happened to her over the past couple of weeks.

Was Gabriel right? Was she really better off posing as a human? She wanted to believe him, but at the same time, she felt that she needed to find the best way for herself. Passing as a human, she would be limited in what she could do. What was the point in having superior abilities, if she did not use those abilities to help people? Perhaps a little discretion was required. Perhaps some people, those who were open-minded enough to believe in angels, might cope with the knowledge of who she was.

For now, she had to find somewhere to start. She engaged her Watcher-vision once more, and scanned a few places with her omnipresent eyes. Something caught her attention. A man was reading a newspaper, an article about an unnatural drought which had struck a farming community in Kansas. This definitely looked like fallout from the apocalypse. Without water, the people, their animals and their crops would die. The countryside would become an infertile wasteland. She had to do something about this.

o - o - o - o - o

Knott was a small town in Ford County, Kansas, population around five-hundred. Its main produce was corn, and at the height of harvest season the fields were turned into a sea of yellow-gold. It was not harvest season yet, but the fields should have been green with slowly ripening plants. Instead, however, they were brown, as the corn continued to wither and die. The soil was parched, crumbly, too easily blown by the wind, and the irrigation ditches were collapsing as they dried out. It had not rained here for weeks; the lake which provided drinking water for the town and irrigation for the fields was at half its capacity. There were signs around the town declaring water austerity measures; people were no longer allowed to wash their cars or use water for their gardens. It had to be conserved.

Nina Charles walked the dusty road into town, her sneakers coated in a layer of greyish brown. She wore a blue and white cotton dress, and a light linen jacket over it despite the heat. Apart from the bag she carried on her back, which contained a change of clothes and a pair of sturdy black boots, they were her only worldly possessions. Nina Charles was just a name Ava had come up with, and she was pleased with it. So far she had only ever been Avariel or Katie, but she knew from watching the Winchesters that sometimes it was best to protect your identity by pretending to be someone else.

That was one of the reasons she had picked up the change of clothes. She had come up with a plan, and for that she needed to be more like Katie. More like a good, wholesome, Christian girl, and less like a denim-wearing fallen grigori. She wasn't sure how good the plan truly was, but as she intended to help the people here, she might as well try to restore some belief in her father at the same time. Right?

On the walk into town she had observed the dying fields of corn, and it brought back memories. She had watched something like this once before, thousands of years ago, along the banks of the River Nile. There, a man named Joseph, a Prophet of the Lord, had foreseen a terrible famine lasting seven years, and had advised the rulers of the land on how to survive the barren years. There would be no Prophet, this time, and it wasn't an entire land that was in danger; just a single town. But that didn't make it any less important to Ava.

When she reached the first of the buildings of the town, she stepped onto the sidewalk, and looked around for a moment. In some ways, Knott reminded her of home. Or rather, Katie's home. It had a comfortable small-town feeling about it which brought a smile to her lips. Inside her head, Katie stirred briefly, expressing a desire to see her family, but Ava merely told the girl to be at peace, and Katie fell into the role of silent observer once more.

A few cars were on the road, and the shops seemed to be doing a brisk trade despite the almost unbearable heat. The people who met each other on the streets greeted each other, not always warmly, but in a way that told Ava this was quite a tight community. As she continued walking down the street, she looked at the shopfronts. Convenience store, grocer, baker, café, bar, clothes shop... the town seemed to have everything it needed to be self-sufficient. She even spotted a small veterinary surgery, which made Katie stir briefly again.

At last she found what she was looking for; a white building set back from the road, a wooden cross upon its roof declaring it a house of God. She looked both ways before crossing the road, then made her way to the church entrance. A board outside the door listed a schedule of upcoming events, mostly prayer services and community social group meetings. At this time of the day—almost three o'clock—the doors were open but there was nobody in sight. Ava climbed the three steps and entered the building, immediately feeling an air of peace pass over her as she crossed the threshold of the building. A true house of God was imbued with the faith of those who worshipped inside it. It was that faith which kept out all but the strongest of demons, and made churches an ideal place of refuge in times of need.

The benches were empty, so Ava chose one in the middle of the room, and took a seat. She had never prayed to God before, because praying was mostly a human thing, but she was cut off from Heaven now, and completely alone. She had no idea if her Father was watching her, or even if he knew that she existed at all, but she wanted him to know that at least one angel had not lost faith. That she was going to do whatever it took to keep walking the path he had set out for her brothers and sisters, so long ago. She closed her eyes, and prayed.

_Father_, she thought, _I don__'t know what you want me to do. I don't even know if you are listening to me. But I want you to know that I am here. I am going to do everything I can to stop the apocalypse. If that is not meant to be, then I'm sure it will not come to pass. But I can't sit by and watch as the world burns because your most beloved sons are too stupid and arrogant to see how wrong they both are. I hope that I'm doing the right thing. I don't expect you to answer this prayer... I just want you to know that I still believe in you._

When she opened her eyes she found that she was no longer alone. A priest, sporting a white collar beneath his black shirt, was watching her from beside the font at the front of the church, his arms folded across his chest. His hair was greying, and his face was starting to show his years, but she guessed him to be no older than fifty. His brown eyes took in her appearance, and he made his way to the bench where she was sitting.

"Hello there," he said, offering a smile that was friendly but guarded. "I hope I didn't disturb you."

"I was finished with my prayer," she replied.

"I don't recognise you as one of my usual flock. Are you new to town?"

"Yes. My name is Nina Charles," she said, offering her hand to the man.

"Reverend Henry Woodward," he replied, shaking her proffered hand. "Have you been in town long?"

"No, I just arrived."

He chuckled. "And the first thing you did was come here?"

"I was told to come here," she said, and hoped her Father would forgive her for lying in a place of worship. "Reverend, there is something I need to talk to you about, and it may sound like blasphemy to you, but I need you to keep an open mind."

"Well, I might be a stuffy old priest, but I like to think I have a mind that's fairly open," he smiled. "What's on your mind, Nina?"

She shuffled up on the bench and invited him to sit down, which he did. When she spoke again, it was hesitantly, as she tried to mimic how a frightened young woman might feel. "I... think I've had a vision," she said, looking straight into his brown eyes, impressing her conviction onto him with her own gaze. "I heard a voice inside my head. The voice... it claimed to be an angel of the Lord. It said that God knows how this town is suffering, and He has seen that people here are starting to lose faith. He wants to help, but He needs people to have faith in Him again. The voice said that if people come to church this Sunday and pray to God, a miracle will happen, and the town will be saved."

He did not look at all convinced by her words. In fact, his brown eyes had taken on something of a worried cast, and his posture spoke of tension.

"Where did you say you were from?" he asked.

"I didn't."

"And is... hearing voices... something that happens to you a lot?"

"No. I know what you're thinking," she said, not needing any sort of telepathy to read the man's mind. "I'm not crazy. I've never been in a mental hospital, and never taken any medication for hallucinations. Before coming here, I was just a normal college student. I went to church every week with my family and I grew up on a farm. I don't have delusions of grandeur... I am only here to give you this message."

"You truly believe what you're saying, don't you?" She nodded, and he sighed. "I wish I shared your conviction, Nina. But I have been praying to God every morning and every night for salvation."

"And God has finally heard your prayers," she insisted. "That is why I am here. You need to tell your congregation to come to service on Sunday, and to pray to him. He can save your town, if you have faith."

"Do you know what will happen when I tell people there is going to be a miracle, and nothing happens?" he said. "They will lose what little faith they have left. They'll probably lynch me."

"Maybe that's part of the problem," she replied. "How can you expect people to have faith, when you have none yourself?"

"Nina," he said, slipping into a more patient tone of voice, "God does not take a hand in the affairs of mankind. He saves our souls, not our towns."

"He saved Moses and his people from the Egyptians," she pointed out, though in actual fact it had been angels, utilising the weapons of Heaven, that had spoken to Moses and encouraged him to lead the Israelites from the lands of Egypt. "I could recount a dozen instances where God has helped mankind. Is it so difficult to believe that he is willing to help now?"

"You're not asking me to believe in God," he pointed out, "but to believe in _you_. And no offence, Nina, but I've never seen you before in my life, you are a stranger here, and I know nothing about you. In my position, wouldn't you be just as skeptical?"

"I suppose I would," she admitted. She had thought this would be easier, that a servant of Heaven would be easy to convince. Just her luck, that the most suspicious priest in the world should be in this town. "Perhaps if you were to know me better, you would believe me. I will be staying in town for a few days... I intend to be here on Sunday, to pray to God. I am going to stay to witness the miracle, even if you don't believe it will happen."

"And where are you staying?"

"I don't know yet. Is there a motel here?"

"Are you kidding? Knott is hardly a tourist hot-spot."

"Then I suppose I shall camp somewhere," she said. It wasn't as if she needed somewhere to stay, after all. She was an angel; she didn't need to eat, or drink, and though she had tried food on occasion—mostly icecream—she had yet to even consider the act of sleeping.

"Hmm," Reverend Woodward said, looking over her clothes and her single bag. "I'll tell you what. My wife and I have a spare room in our house. You can stay with us until Sunday, if you like."

His offer came as a surprise, but perhaps this would be an ideal opportunity to work on the Reverend, to help restore some of his faith, and to prepare the rest of the town for the coming miracle.

"I am very grateful for your offer of accommodation," she said. "I don't want to... put you out."

"It's no problem. I think my wife will actually be grateful to have somebody else to cook for." He smiled. "She thinks I don't appreciate all the effort she puts into meals."

"I'm sure her meals will be better than anything I am used to."

"Well then, it's settled. Do you want to follow me to the house, and I'll show you to your room?"

"Thank you."

She grabbed her bag from the seat beside her and followed Reverend Woodward through the church, down some steps to what appeared to be the back door. They both stepped out into the sunshine, and she saw a house not far away. She followed him across the dying lawns, and looked around at the withering trees. This place was really in a bad way. Worst of all was knowing that she could fix all of this, right here, right now. All it would take was one little storm, easily whipped up and controlled. But she had to do it more carefully than that. Dry ground did not absorb moisture easily, and too much rain at once could cause a flash flood. As well, she needed to time it right. She needed everybody to be focused on God, before she could restore their faith in Him.

When she heard a dog bark she looked up and saw a border collie come racing out of the house, bounding over to her, its tail wagging happily. The sight of the dog brought a smile to her face; people who cared for animals were usually good people, and it reminded her... or Katie... of home.

"Patch, get down!" the Reverand shouted as the collie jumped excitedly around Ava's legs.

"It's alright," she assured Woodward. "I love dogs."

She reached down and placed her hand on the dog's head. _Be calm_, she commanded it, and at once it stopped frisking, instead turning its brown eyes to watch her with an expression of canine worship.

"Huh, looks like you have a way with animals," Woodward said, watching as Patch followed at her heels, tail still wagging.

"Yes, I do," she agreed.

He led her up the stairs to the porch, then opened the front door for her. She looked around the home; it was large and clean, very well kept. Not at all like Bobby's house. But, unlike Bobby's house, there were no ancient books on the occult and the paranormal, no piles of weapons, no bottles of holy water, no silver knives on display. It was just a normal, human house, with tasteful decoration and a small bookshelf, on which a copy of the Bible had a place of prominence. The other books ranged from horticulture to psychology; an interesting combination.

"They're my daughter's," the Reverend explained, gesturing at the psychology books. "She's away studying at college at the moment. I'm not sure which was hardest for her... leaving us behind, or leaving Patch," he said, with a fond glance at the dog which was still right beside Ava.

"And the books about plants?"

"Oh, they belong to Sally, my wife."

"You have a lovely home," she said, gesturing around the living room. "Do you and your wife have any other children?"

"No, just Claire. Come on, I'll show you to her room."

"She won't mind me staying there?"

"I think she'd want it to be put to good use while she's gone. Claire wouldn't deny somebody in need."

He led her through the house and up the stairs, then opened the first door on the left of the landing. When Ava stepped inside she found herself in a large bedroom, inside which was a double-bed, along with a large wardrobe, a chest of drawers, and a long table beneath the window. There was a full length mirror in one corner of the room, and cream-coloured curtains had been drawn back from the window. Ava turned to face Woodward.

"I will not disturb anything of your daughter's in this room," she told him.

"Claire wouldn't begrudge you anything," he assured her. "Well, I have to return to the church, in case anybody decides to stop by. You're welcome to come and go as you please; we never lock the front door. And we usually have dinner at seven."

"Thank you, Reverend. I think I will have a look around the town today, and return for dinner. I hope your wife will not mind cooking for one more."

"As far as Sally's concerned, the more, the merrier. I'll leave you to get settled in now, Nina. If you need anything, just come and see me at the church."

He departed, pulling the door closed behind him, and Ava put her bag on the bed. She had much work to do here. Not only did she have to convince a town full of people to suddenly start praying to God for a miracle, but she had to figure out how the weather was being affected so that she could fix it in the long term; a single rain storm would only be a temporary fix. The dog, Patch, pawed at her leg, and looked up at her eagerly. Smiling, she bent down and ran a hand over his head.

"Don't worry, boy," she said. "I'm going to fix this."

He barked an agreement. It was nice to know at least one creature in this town believed in her.

_- o -_


	2. Family

_**Fallen**_

_**Book 2: Knott in Need**_

Chapter 2

_- Family -_

Ava walked along the dry grassy track, making her way back to the Reverend's house, with Patch trotting beside her. She had spent a short time in the town, looking in the windows of the shops, and then discovered the lake, and spent the rest of the afternoon sitting on its shore, using her angelic abilities to send thought-waves across the waters. Beneath the surface of the lake, and directly around it, she detected fish, amphibians, water-loving mammals, birds... all of them suffering because of the lack of rain. The waters of the lake had receded, leaving behind a parched, cracked mudhole that would not have been out of place in Africa at the height of the dry season.

Three hours had passed, which she had spent in quiet contemplation. She had resisted the urge to check up on Bobby; it had only been a few hours since he had sent her on her way, and she suspected he would like some privacy for a while. As much as she wanted to keep an eye on the Winchesters, she knew that she could find them easily enough, either through Bobby or Castiel, and for the moment they needed to live their own lives, to try and stop the apocalypse in their own ways. There was still a very slim chance that they might kill Lucifer in his current vessel, and an even slimmer chance that Castiel might actually succeed in finding God. For as long as either of those were an option, she was loathe to interfere.

When she became aware that the hour for dinner was drawing near, she focused herself once more in the present, and set off back to the house. Now she would be required to employ all of her acting abilities, to try and pass herself off as a simple college girl receiving instructions from an angel of the Lord. The situation, she realised, was quite humourous. That she, an _actual_ angel, had to pose as a human receiving visions from an _imaginary_ angel, was what humans called 'irony'. It would have been so much simpler to manifest herself as she truly was, gaining faith in her Father by immediately bringing rain to the stricken town, but she suspected it would take her more than a day or two to permanently fix the weather here, and she did not feel like putting up with the questions of humans during that time. Not when she had work to do.

At the Reverend's house, Patch followed her up the stairs and into the living room. Ava immediately detected the smell of cooking food in the air. It didn't smell much like the food that Bobby ate, which mostly smelt like plastic. The aroma immediately stirred up memories from Katie, of home-cooked meals back on the farm.

"Reverend Woodward?" she called out, as she passed into the open plan dining-kitchen. There was a woman at the stove, stirring a pan with a wooden spoon, and she smiled when she saw Ava.

"You must be Nina," the woman said. "Henry told me you'd be staying with us for a few days." The woman wiped her hands on her overall, then offered one for shaking, which Ava accepted. "Sally Woodward. Please, call me Sally."

"Thank you for offering me the hospitality of your home, Sally," Ava said, memorising the woman's appearance so that she could Watch her in future, if necessary. Sally, like her husband, had a pleasant and friendly face, which was wide across the cheeks, and a generous mouth. Her blonde hair was starting to grey a little, and had been pulled back into a bun behind her head. Plumper and shorter than her husband, she reminded Katie a little of her grandmother... or perhaps any friendly grandmother out of a fairytale.

"Oh, no need to mention it! Henry's just locking up the church, so if you'd like to go and get washed up for dinner, we'll eat as soon as he's back."

Ava nodded, and turned towards the stairs. Investigating some of the other rooms on the second floor gave her access to the bathroom, and she stepped inside it, allowing Patch to follow before closing the door.

What did Sally mean exactly, by 'get washed up for dinner'? she wondered. Bobby had never mentioned anything about getting washed for dinner. He just ate whenever he was hungry, and was lucky if he managed to find a clean fork. When Sam and Dean had been present for meal times, there was even less formality, and they rarely even bothered with plates.

Realising she was in over her head, she called on Katie's memories for guidance, and was treated to the image of the girl's mother telling her to wash her hands and face before eating, on an occasion when she had come back dirty from a hard day's work on the farm with her father.

Ava turned the tap on, and let her hands run under the water, washing away the dust from the road. When the water ran clean, she splashed some of it onto her face, cleansing her skin. Then she used the towel on a nearby rail to dry her hands and face, and looked up into the mirror above the basin. Blue eyes set into a narrow sun-kissed face looked back at her, unblinking. She was used to the sight of her vessel by now, used to her physical appearance, but sometimes it still felt strange to have a body. She never forgot that she was an angel, but she had to remind herself that other people didn't know who or what they were truly speaking to, when they spoke to Katie.

Content that she was clean enough to satisfy a priest's wife, she left the bathroom and descended the stairs. In the kitchen she found Woodward and his wife talking quietly, but they stopped when they heard her approach.

"Hello, Nina," Woodward smiled. "Have you had a good afternoon? Managed to find your way around alright?"

"Yes thank you, Reverend," she replied.

"Please, call me Henry. You're a guest in my home, there's no need to stand on formality."

"As you wish."

"Please have a seat, Nina," said Sally, gesturing towards the dining table.

Ava turned to survey the table. It had four chairs around it, but was set for three places, an empty plate on every mat, and cutlery by the sides of the plates. She selected one of the chairs and sat down, shuffling closer to the table. Henry poured glasses of water for each of them, then took the seat beside her whilst Sally spooned food onto the plates.

"I hope you're hungry, Nina," the woman said, "I made plenty. Figured you're probably in need of a decent meal. Henry tells me you only arrived in town today?"

"Yes," she replied. And, because Sally was looking at her as if she wanted elaboration, she continued. "First I took a train, then I took a bus, then I walked."

Henry and Sally shared a glance, and then the woman took a seat at the table next to her husband. Why did humans do that? The glancing? They seemed to be able to share thoughts that way, even though they had no telepathic ability at all.

"We say grace before meal times," Henry said, clasping his hands in front of him.

"Good," she replied, doing likewise and closing her eyes.

"Our Father in Heaven, we ask that you bless all who sit around this table, watch over us, and give us strength in times of darkness. Help us to walk on the path you have laid out for us, and forgive us our transgressions, past, present and future. We thank you for all you have provided. Amen."

"Amen," Ava murmured, as did Sally.

"Please, tuck in," Sally said, gesturing at the plates.

Ava picked up her fork and prodded each item in turn, naming them with the words that Katie had for them. Carrots. Potatoes. Peas. Chicken. And the brown stuff covering it was gravy. They were... familiar... in an unfamiliar way.

"Is something wrong?" Henry asked.

"No," she said, poking at the chicken meat. "I've just... never eaten the flesh of an animal before."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Sally said. "I didn't know you're a vegetarian. I can make you something else, it's not a problem."

"It's fine," said Ava. "I'm not a vegetarian, I simply haven't had the opportunity to consume meat yet." She cut off a piece of the chicken and put it into her mouth, chewing for a moment. It was possibly the most unappetising thing she had eaten in her whole month of having a vessel, and she swallowed it with great reluctance. "Though... I think I might be a vegetarian now." She quickly ate some of the carrots, to rid her mouth of the taste of chicken.

"So... whereabouts do you hail from, Nina?" Henry asked.

"Wyoming," she said, without even thinking about lying.

"Lived there your whole life?"

"Yes." She ate one of the potatoes on her plate. It was roasted... tasted much nicer than the chicken had.

"Your folks American too?"

"Yes." From within her mind, Katie prodded her, and suggested that these questions were a little... strange. Ava looked up at Henry. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, you just have a strange way of talking. And your accent's hard to place."

"I see." She hadn't realised that she no longer sounded like Katie, though looking back, she could see that perhaps some of her words were a little... formal. She tended to use less contractions than most humans. "I... suppose it is just my way." What else could she say? She wasn't proficient enough at acting to come up with a story on the fly.

"I suppose so," Henry agreed.

"Is your family in Wyoming right now, Nina?" Sally asked.

"Yes," she said. And, because she sensed elaboration was required once more, "my parents live there, along with my brother and sister. I have aunts and uncles nearby as well."

"Henry tells me you were in college?"

"I was studying to become a vet." She glanced down at Patch, who wagged his tail at her. He was still watching her adoringly. Dogs were like that; amongst the most faithful of the animals, and good at recognising angels. "I like animals. They're so... honest."

"And you just gave it up? To... come here and tell us about a miracle that's going to happen this weekend?" Sally asked. She gave Ava a guilty smile. "Henry told me. I guess I'm just finding it hard to understand why a young woman like you, bright enough to be studying at college—to become a vet, no less—would just walk away from her life to come to a flyspeck town like this."

"I was called to a higher purpose," she said, and then looked at Henry. "That's why it's called a test of faith. If you have nothing to lose, the test is worthless."

"She has a point," Sally said to her husband. "Did an angel really speak to you, Nina?"

"Yes." She was being honest about that part, at least. Angels spoke to her, and she spoke back.

"And you really think there will be a miracle if enough people go to church and pray?"

"I gave up everything I was and everything I had, to bring this message to you," Ava told her. "And when the miracle happens, when this town is saved, I will move on, to bring the message to more people, for as long as God commands it of me. I don't know if I will be rewarded, and I don't know how long it will be before I can go… home. Or if I ever can. But that's not going to stop me from trying."

"Well then," Sally said, looking undaunted by Ava's words, "we'll just have to make sure we get as many people to church as possible this week, won't we?"

"Sally," Henry sighed.

"Oh, don't 'Sally' me. I don't know about you, but this girl has convinced me that she at least believes what she's saying. Right now, I'm desperate enough to believe that miracles can happen."

Ava could tell that Henry still wasn't convinced; he was a man of faith, but that faith came with skepticism. She couldn't blame him. The terrible things done by men claiming to be servants of God were many and varied. Cults were one of the big ones, seemingly harmless until the mass suicides started. False prophets, faith healers with no ability to heal, television evangelists…

"Thank you, Sally," she said. That she had an ally in this was…. unexpected. Her plan had been to go into the town and talk to people, to tell them to go to church and pray. They would probably take it a lot better, though, if it came from somebody they knew.

For the rest of the meal, Sally chatted about life in Knott, telling Ava all about the people, the community, their history. Ava, prompted by Katie, made appropriate remarks in the right places, but it was difficult to know what was expected of her. Despite her millennia of watching the humans, it seemed that for everything she'd seen, there was something she had missed. She had witnessed the rise and fall of civilisations. She had been the first amongst the angels to see the potential in Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, and had Watched him to almost the exclusion of everything else for the remainder of his life. She had observed Albert Einstein for almost fifty years, seen the advances he had made; advances which could have ended the world.

She had witnessed great people and great things. She had also Watched small people and small things. Buddhist monks who lived their lives in contemplative silence. Oak trees grown from tiny acorns. African slaves toiling in the fields in America. Unknown soldiers giving their lives for King and Country. She had seen the good and the bad, but somehow, along the way, she had failed to observe some of the nuances, such as how to work a microwave machine, and how to make small-talk with strangers in a way that did not make them worry that you were mentally disturbed.

So she listened, taking in the things Sally said, as she ate everything on her plate except the foul-tasting meat. And when dinner was over, Sally and Henry invited her to watch television for a while, which she accepted, because television was familiar to her. Mostly they watched the news, and after hearing reports about terrible flooding in the far east, and deadly raging fires in Australia, Henry commented on the sad state of the world. Ava did not tell him that it was simply an ongoing symptom of the apocalypse. For one, he had enough to worry about already. She also wanted to keep her status as quiet as possible, and young women from Wyoming did not typically have first-hand knowledge of apocalyptic events.

When she tired of the news she asked to read one of the books from the shelves, and Sally told her to help herself. At first she tried one of the psychology books, hoping it would give her an insight into human behaviour. But she understood very little of the terminology, and when she couldn't find a book to _explain_ the book, she replaced it and took out one of the books about plants instead.

Plants were wonderful things. The time she had spent watching an oak tree mature had been very informative, because it was then she had truly learnt that nothing, not even plants, remained separate from the world around them. Two hundred years of watching an oak tree grow had taught her about soil aeration, and symbiotic relationships, about how one simple tree could house an entire community of insects, arachnids, birds and mammals, generating a wealth of diversity. In some ways, human towns reminded her of oak trees. When the circumstances were good, people, animals and plants could flourish in towns. But when the towns got too large, when they became monstrous cities, grey and overbearing, everything suffered, even the humans.

At half past ten, Sally offered Ava a drink of hot milk, which Ava accepted out of politeness at Katie's prompting. Hot milk was supposed to help a person sleep, but Ava had no need for sleep. Still, it would be best to keep up appearances, so after drinking the milk she told the couple that she was tired from her travels, and excused herself for the night.

Upstairs, in Claire's room, she didn't bother getting undressed. She merely lay on her back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Of course, she _could_ easily teleport to anywhere in the world to continue helping people during night-time in America, or she could spend the evening Watching other places, in case anything of importance was happening... but she declined to do either. One task at a time, she decided. If she split her focus she would be less effective. Perhaps this was an ideal time to try sleeping.

She closed her eyes and willed her mind to silence. It was an easy enough thing for an angel to do, and even humans could accomplish it, through meditation. But even when her mind was silent, it did not sleep. Her body remained awake. Angels simply lacked the mental 'off' switch that humans possessed. Eternal children of God did not need to sleep, or eat, and they never aged. For the human within, it could be a terrible way to live. People were so used to sleeping and dreaming, that being active all the time made them weary. That was one of the reasons most angels refused to allow their vessels any access to conscious knowledge of the real world. The other reason, of course, being that humans were a bad influence on angels; being too close to a human, whether it was the vessel or another human, opened the door to doubt, emotion and temptation, as evidenced by Azazel and the other fall grigori. Ava vowed not to make those same mistakes. She would learn from what had happened; she would not falter in service to her Father.

When the proverbial sandman failed to take her into the land of nod, she opened her eyes once more and turned her gaze to the ceiling. Lying on the bed, listening to the gentle snores of Patch as he slept on the floor, she waited for morning to come.

o - o - o - o - o

It was Friday. Ava had watched Fridays beyond count, from her place in Heaven, and this one was no different to any of the others, save that she was in it, experiencing it, living it. For two days she had been in Knott; she had talked to some of the town's inhabitants, allowed Sally to introduce her to others, but she had kept quiet about the miracle, trusting the Reverend's wife to spread the message instead. It was an arrangement Ava was content with. Crowds still made her feel uncomfortable, and she suspected that once the miracle happened, crowds were going to become a part of her life. Until then, she had relative solitude to enjoy.

"Excuse me," said a voice behind her.

Ava tore her gaze away from the far bank of the lake and turned to find a young woman standing before her, a baby cradled in her arms. The woman's short blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she wore a pair of denim dungarees over a pink t-shirt. She looked to be no older than Katie, but there was a tired, aged look about her face caused by too many sleepless nights.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"You're Nina, aren't you?" the girl said, waiting for Ava to nod before continuing. "Sally told me I'd find you here. My name's Amber, and this is Jack," she said, bouncing the baby who gurgled happily at the motion.

"Pleased to meet you both," she said. From her feet, Patch gave a quiet whine. "This is Patch."

"I know," Amber smiled. "I'm a friend of Claire's. I was there the day she brought Patch home. He was such a cute puppy." Ava said nothing, merely waiting for Amber to continue. She was certain the girl had not sought her out to discuss the dog. And indeed, she shifted on her feet for a moment, a sign of hesitation or discomfort Ava had come to recognise in humans, before speaking again. "Is it true that an angel spoke to you, and told you that it's going to rain on Sunday?"

"Yes."

"Does... the angel speak to you about other things?"

"Such as?"

"Well... why God abandoned us in the first place?"

"God has not abandoned you," she said, even though it was possibly a lie.

"Then why has he let things get this bad? Why are our crops dying?"

"God is not responsible for every single thing that happens on Earth. For the most part, he wishes us to help ourselves, to overcome adversity without interference. That is how we learn and grow."

"And is that why bad things happen to good people?"

"I suspect so," she agreed. In truth, she knew better. What happened to people, whether they were good or bad, was just life. But humans needed to find a reason for events which affected them negatively; they needed to know why their homes were levelled in quakes, why diseases took loved ones, why criminals walked free of their crimes. If they had a reason for 'bad things' happening, then it made them feel less alone, less afraid, and allowed them to rationalise events which might otherwise destroy their minds and souls. The simple fact of the matter was, God did not personally oversee the running of the world, or the lives of the people in it. He never had.

"Will you be in church on Sunday?" Amber asked her.

"Yes, of course. Will you?"

"I don't know," the girl admitted. "I haven't been to church since... well, it's been a while."

Ava looked more closely at the young woman. There was more than tiredness in her face; there was desperation, and loss. Something had happened to her, she suspected, to make her lose that vital spark of life which characterised most humans. Something inside her had died, and not even the happy gurgles of her baby could bring it back to life.

"Can I tell you a secret, Amber?" she asked, stepping closer to the woman. Amber nodded. "It doesn't matter if you go to church on Sunday. Faith does not come from God; it comes from within you. God is simply a mirror, and how brightly he shines is a reflection of your own conviction. If you do not have faith, it doesn't matter how many hours you spend sitting in a church; your prayers will forever go unanswered."

"Am I that obvious?"

"Yes." Angels, too, were like mirrors. They shone most brightly amongst the faithful.

Amber gave her a tight smile. "The reason I came to find you is I wanted to invite you over for dinner tonight. I mentioned it to Sally, and she said it was okay, as long as we don't harass you too much about the angel stuff. I promise my family will behave themselves... but I needed to ask you about it alone. I hope you don't mind."

"I don't mind. And I would like to have dinner with your family. Though I am surprised you are accepting of my claim. Reverend Woodward does not entirely believe me. Not yet."

"When I was a little girl, I used to believe that angels were watching over me," Amber admitted. "It made me feel safe... protected. As I grew up, I never stopped believing in angels, but I stopped thinking about them as much. Now, I sometimes look back at the little girl I was, and feel so foolish. I guess part of me, the little girl, just wants to believe that it's all true. That angels are truly watching over us."

"They do watch," she agreed.

"What are they like? I mean, I'm guessing they're not like the things we put on top of Christmas trees, right?"

"That's not a question I can easily answer," she said evasively. What was she supposed to say? That in their natural forms, angels were sky-scraper-sized beings with multiple faces in the form of beasts, and impressive wing-spans? That the majority of angels spent most of their time in Heaven as simple energy-patterns, able to perceive cosmic rays from whole other areas of space and time? That they were cold, aloof and arrogant, and that most of them barely cared about humanity at all?

"Well... what's your angel like?" Amber asked. "The one who talks to you?"

"My angel? Well, I suppose it's... well..." She struggled to come up with an adequate description. She had never needed to describe herself before, at least to somebody who didn't already know what angels were. And even they had never met a grigori, before meeting her. "My angel is very caring," she said at last. "She loves humanity and wants to protect people from the forces of darkness which stalk the Earth."

"Does she protect you? Keep you safe?"

"Yes."

"Do... other people... have angels? I mean, regular people, like me?"

"Some few, yes," she said hesitantly, not wanting to give the girl the wrong idea. "But guardian angels are very rare. Mostly, they protect and advise important individuals, those whose fates have already been determined and who are chosen to do the work of Heaven."

"I suppose the idea that angels might be watching over us regular folk is a bit silly," Amber replied.

"Not at all. We all want to believe that there is somebody watching over us. For some people, it's angels, or the spirits of their deceased ancestors, or God himself. Nobody wants to feel like they are alone. It's not silly, it's just... human."

Jack stirred in Amber's arms, and started to cry. Amber bounced the baby again, and made shushing noises. It never failed to amaze Ava how women just seemed to know what to do with babies once they became mothers. It was as if some sort of 'mother' command was programmed into them, that just automatically switched on when they became pregnant. It was undoubtedly something her Father had done, to ensure women knew how to care for children. Even animals, who had nobody to teach them, knew how to raise their offspring.

"I know there's still a couple of hours before dinner," Amber said, "but would you like to come back to the house and help me give Jack his bottle? He always get cranky when he needs his milk."

"Yes, I would like that," she said. Although Katie had first-hand experience of babies, because she was eight years older than her brother, Ava knew very little about them, beyond what she had observed from Heaven. At knee-height, Patch whined for attention. Suspecting Amber's family probably wouldn't want the dog in their house, Ava reached down and placed a hand on his head. _Go home. I will return later,_ she commanded. Patch barked once, then ran off along the dirt path towards the church.

"He seems to have taken to you," Amber said, watching as Patch disappeared. "I'm glad. He's been pining ever since Claire left for college." Jack's cries turned into wails, and Amber lifted him into a different position. "Come on, let's get you home, little man," she told the infant. "Are you ready, Nina?"

"Of course."

There was no conversation as they walked around the lake, taking a short-cut back to the town, because Amber was kept busy by her crying baby, and Ava watched with interest. There were no baby angels; her kind had awoken whole and complete, with knowledge of who and what they were, and although they were capable of learning, they didn't need to learn how to be older. Time had no effect on the cognisant abilities of an angel, so the maturation process of baby humans into adult humans had always confused Avariel. It just seemed such an inconvenient way to make a human. Conception, gestation and child-birth alone were messy things, and then an adult had to spend years teaching a child how to be self-sufficient. Why had her father made humans and animals like this?

"How old is your child?" she asked Amber.

"Nearly ten months."

"Does his name have any significance?" She had observed that humans tended to give their offspring names which meant something personal to them. She did not know who had named her 'Avariel', though she suspected it was God. He was the only one who could create angels, so it stood to reason that He would name his children personally.

"Jack... it was my father-in-law's name. My husband... he wanted to use 'Jack' if our child was a boy. Something to remember him by."

"Will your husband be joining us for dinner?"

"No. He's... not here right now."

"I see," she said, but she did not pry. The absence of Amber's husband seemed to be the source of unhappiness in the woman. Wherever he was, whatever reason he had for leaving, Ava suspected the young woman didn't want to talk about it.

"I'm living with my parents at the moment," Amber continued. "They help out, with Jack. I don't know what I'd do without them."

"You are very lucky, to have a family that cares about you."

"Is that envy I detect?" Amber asked.

The question surprised Ava. She hadn't intended to sound envious. Was that how it had come across?

Amber continued. "Are you close to your family?"

"I... it's complicated," she said lamely. Katie was close to her family, but Avariel was estranged from her father and not exactly on good terms with her brothers and sisters. Even before Bartholomew's rebellion, no angels except other grigori had trusted her. Now, Gabriel was the only one who trusted her, the only one who would willingly speak to her, who considered her anything more than a ticking time-bomb of fallen angelic destruction.

"Sometimes, I think we make things more complicated than they need to be."

"I think you're right."

When they reached the house of Amber's family, the young woman unlocked the door and led Ava inside, through the living room and into the kitchen. It was much like the Woodwards' house, spacious and well-kept, but this one had child's toys littered around, and a moses basket ready for use beside the sofa.

"Where are your family?" Ava asked.

"My mom and dad are at work, and Dylan's probably out picking up groceries."

"Dylan?"

"My brother. He graduated from college last year and spent the past few months travelling around the country... sight-seeing, he said. An excuse to travel around and drink with his friends, if you ask me," Amber said disapprovingly. "Here, will you hold Jack for me while I get his bottle ready?"

"What? You want me to hold the child?" she asked, backing into a cupboard and banging her head against the wood.

"Yeah, just for a few minutes."

"But... I've never held an infant before." Besides, the baby was still crying. She wasn't good at dealing with leaky adults, much less leaky children. What if it had wet itself? "I might drop it."

"You won't drop him," said Amber. "Here, just hold your arms out, like this."

There wasn't much Ava could do to object. Amber was already passing the child over to her, adjusting her hands to better support Jack's head. The baby continued to scream as his mother turned to take a bottle and some milk formula from the cupboard.

"Don't look so worried, Nina," Amber said, smiling at the expression on Ava's face.

"He's upset. What do I do?" she demanded.

"Walk with him. Bounce him a little, he likes that. Or sing him a song. Babies love songs."

Desperate to try anything, she started to walk and bounce the child at the same time, making two tours of the kitchen before wandering into the living room. "Hush, baby," she said. "I mean, Jack. There's no need to cry. Your mother is making your milk." There was no change in the volume of the infant's cries, so she thought back to the times when she had Watched humans, and pulled up the first song that came to mind.

_"Hush little baby, don't say a word,_

_ Momma__'s gonna buy you a mocking bird._

_ And if that mocking bird don__'t sing, _

_ Momma__'s gonna buy you a diamond ring._

_ And if that diamond ring turns brass,_

_ Momma__'s gonna buy you a looking glass._

_ And if that looking glass gets broke,_

_ Momma__'s gonna buy you a billy goat._

_ And if that billy goat runs away,_

_ Momma__'s gonna buy you another today."_

By the time she finished singing, Jack was sound asleep, and relaxed in her arms. She looked up to find Amber watching, a bottle of milk in her hand.

"Well," the young woman said, "I guess I won't be needing the bottle anymore. How on earth did you do that?"

"I guess he was just tired after all," she shrugged, and placed the sleeping baby in his moses basket.

"He never goes to sleep without having his bottle first."

"First time for everything, it seems. Would you like some help making dinner?"

"Don't be silly, you're our guest, and you've already helped me out with Jack. There's no need to do anything else."

"I would like to help," she assured Amber. "I've never made a meal before. At least, a meal that didn't involve a microwave. I would like to learn how to cook."

Amber smiled, and shook her head. "You're a little strange, Nina. But sure, you can help with dinner. I'll show you what you need to know."

o - o - o - o - o

Ava was a quick study. She learnt a lot in the space of an hour. Now she felt confident that she could prepare a meal for humans, if necessary. Cooking with fresh ingredients wasn't as difficult as working a microwave machine.

"Hey sis, I'm home!" someone called from the living room.

"Dylan," Amber whispered to Ava, rolling her eyes. Then, she called out, "We're in the kitchen!"

A man strode into the kitchen carrying two bags of groceries. He was tall, almost as tall as Sam Winchester, with brown hair and two days' worth of dark stubble peppering his chiselled cheeks and firm jaw. Green eyes sparkled appreciatively as he looked at Ava, in a way that reminded her of Dean Winchester. Dylan appeared to have qualities which humans considered attractive, though he was certainly no statue of David.

"Well hello there," he said, dumping the groceries onto the counter. "This must be Nina, the mysterious girl who talks to angels."

"Dylan," Amber said, filling the single word with a generous helping of disapproval.

"Oh, don't be so uptight, Amber," he grinned, then stepped forward towards Ava, offering his hand. "Dylan Thomson, pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise," she replied, and shook his hand.

He smiled, and held onto it for a moment. "Are you sure you're not an angel yourself? You're certainly beautiful enough."

"Angels have no physical body that can be perceived by the human eye," she told him.

"Maybe not, but that doesn't sound as poetic, does it?"

"I suppose not."

He released her hand, and brought out a pack of beers from one of the grocery bags. "Can I offer you ladies a drink?"

"No thanks," said Amber.

"I do not drink alcohol," Ava replied. It was one of the things she was working up to, much like watching The Exorcist and having sex. Though despite what she had told the Winchesters, she was in no hurry to do either. She had better things to do right now than watch a horror movie with satanic themes, and from what she had observed of sex, it was a rather messy and often disappointing affair.

"Root beer, then? No alcohol involved."

"Sure." It was something she had never tried before, but she was willing to try everything at least once.

Dylan reached into the bag again and brought out a brown bottle, opening it and handing it to her. She took a sip of the liquid inside, and was pleasantly surprised. It was tangy and bubbly, and fizzed nicely in her mouth.

"So Nina, I hear you're staying with the Reverend and his wife, while Claire's away at school," Dylan said, perching on the edge of the kitchen counter as he ran his eyes over Ava's vessel. Katie stirred, disliking his attention. "What's that like?"

"Very peaceful," she said. "I enjoy the company."

"Well, hopefully you'll find the company of our family just as... enjoyable," he grinned.

Ava didn't bother replying. She knew enough about primitive human mating rituals to recognise that he was attracted to her... or at least, attracted to her vessel. Of course, as an angel, she was free from Earthly desires which didn't involve chocolate icecream. She got the impression that Dylan wasn't used to women ignoring his advances, but that was exactly what she did.

"Ugh," said Amber, wafting her hand at her brother, "you smell like you spent the past day wading through a swamp."

He shrugged. "Someone's gotta man the pumps, and it's good honest work. Isn't that what mom and dad wanted for me?"

"I think they also wanted you to use the shower."

Dylan held up his hands to stall the onslaught. "Message received, Amby. I'll go shower. And then you and I," he said, pointing at Ava with a grin, "can talk more."

Amber waited until her brother was up the stairs and the sound of running water could be heard, before she turned to Ava.

"Sorry about my brother. He's such a show-off at times. Ever since he got back from his trip, he thinks he's God's gift to the world or something."

"And he... mans pumps?" she asked, confused about the expression.

"Oh yeah. Since the level of the lake dropped, the farmers have been hiring guys to work the old hand-pumps, to get water to the fields. There's no way they can supply as much as is needed, but perhaps one or two of the fields can be saved."

"Don't worry, Amber," she said, resting a hand on the young woman's shoulder. "All of the fields will be saved. God will make sure of it. I promise."

"Right," she said. "Because an angel told you."

"Yes."

Amber shook her head. "It must be nice, to have faith, to be so sure of something."

"Like I said before, faith comes from within."

Amber didn't get chance to answer, because Jack woke up and started crying from the living room. His mother left to collect him, and gave him to Ava to hold once more while she prepared another bottle. This time Ava did not sing, because she suspected it wasn't healthy for a child to be put to sleep constantly by an angel. Instead she bounced the baby, and let him cry until Amber stuck a warm bottle of milk in her hand.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" she asked, holding up the milk.

"Well... give it to him. It should stop him crying."

"This looks potentially messy. What if he vomits?"

"You'll manage," Amber said, as she turned back to stirring one of the pans on the stove.

As ordered, Ava put the rubber teat of the bottle against the baby's mouth, and he automatically latched on and began suckling. Instinct, Ava realised. It was how mothers knew what to do, and how babies knew what to do. It was how chicks learnt to fly when they jumped out of their nests, and what made a herd of wildebeest in the Savannah flee without even being able to see or smell when they were being stalked by a predator. It was also something that Ava, and all angels, lacked. God had made them clever and and given them the gift of knowledge, but he had left them largely devoid of emotion and without any natural instinct. All they could do was obey. They didn't even have the necessary instincts to fear death. Were it not so sad, it would have been ridiculous.

"You know, I think you're a natural," Amber said, smiling at Ava feeding the baby. "Have you ever thought about having kids?"

"I am incapable of bearing children," she replied without thinking.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry Nina. I didn't mean to-"

"You have nothing to apologise for," she interrupted, before Amber could start feeling even more guilty. Katie was _far_ too young and innocent to have ever thought about children, and to Ava, it was not even a consideration. A little-known fact of Heaven was that although angels inhabiting male vessels could _father_ children with mortal women—resulting in the abominations known as Nephilim—the combination did not work the other way around. Mortal men could not impregnate angels inhabiting the bodies of women. For some reason it just didn't work. "It is something I have known all my life, and I am not saddened by it."

"It... must be so difficult for you, seeing mothers with their children," Amber said, her face lined with sympathy that was reflected in her eyes.

"Not at all."

"Amber! We're home!" a voice called from the living room.

"In the kitchen, Mom," Amber called back.

The growing melancholy mood in the room evaporated. Two more people appeared in the kitchen, and introduced themselves as Scott and Sandra Thomson; Amber's parents. They, like the Reverend and his wife, seemed like nice friendly people, at least in comparison to the other people she had met so far, who had been rather more into trapping her in circles of holy fire.

"Thank you for inviting me for dinner, Mr and Mrs Thomson. I would shake your hands, but..." she indicated the baby, feeding in her arms.

"Oh, don't worry about it," said Mrs Thomson. "And please, call me Sandra. It's lovely to meet you... Sally has told me so much about you. All of it good, of course."

"Of course," she agreed. Jack started making hiccupping noises, and Ava jumped. "Ahh... Amber, I think your son is about to explode."

"Here, I'll take him," Amber said, holding her arms out for her baby. Ava gladly passed him over.

"So, girls, what's for dinner?" Mr Thomson... Scott... asked, leaning over the pans to examine what was inside.

"Spaghetti bolognaise and garlic bread," said Amber. She was holding her son over her shoulder and patting his back.

"My favourite," Dylan said, entering the room to join the rest of his family. His hair was damp and slicked back, and he'd shaved the stubble from his face. He glanced at Jack. "And how's my nephew? Windy as ever?"

"Only when you're around, Dylan," said Amber.

"Now now kids, no arguing," said Scott. "We have a guest, after all. Amber, you finish up with Jack. Dylan, you set the table for dinner."

There were no more arguments after that. Dylan set the table, Amber settled Jack down in his basket, and Sandra Thomson chivvied Ava to a chair and offered her a drink. She gratefully accepted another root beer; she could definitely develop a taste for this stuff. When at last dinner was ready, Scott and Sandra brought out the food, and everybody took a seat at the table.

"Let us hold hands and say grace," Scott said. Ava took Amber's hand on her left, and Dylan's hand on her right, and closed her eyes. "Dear Lord, we thank you for the bounty you have provided us, and we pray that you continue to provide and watch over us. Please help us to endure the trials sent to test us, and give us strength to persevere. We remain your obedient children, now and forever. Amen."

"Amen," everyone said.

"Well, dive in, kids," said Sandra, gesturing at the bowls of pasta and bolognaise.

"Here, allow me," said Dylan, picking up one of the bowls and serving some of the pasta to Ava. "Guests go first, it's only polite."

"Thank you," she said, because Katie told her that manners were equally polite.

"Don't worry," Amber said, passing over the bowl of bolognaise sauce, "there's no meat in it. Sally told me you're a vegetarian so I made this specially."

"That was very considerate of you, Amber. Thank you," said Ava. Did these humans put meat in _everything_? How was an angel supposed to eat, if the foul stuff was in every meal?

"Nina," said Scott, "Sally told us that you were in college, before coming here? Studying to be… a vet?"

"Yes, that's right," she replied. Following Amber's cue, she took a slice of garlic bread from the centre plate, and bit into it, then froze. It was the most incredible thing she had ever tasted. Better than root beer. Better than chocolate icecream. Better than chocolate icecream covered in root beer. This was, perhaps, the greatest invention humans had ever created. Combining bread with garlic... genius!

"You must be pretty sharp, then. Becoming a vet takes more work than becoming a doctor, right?"

"I like animals," she said.

"You know, Dylan has just finished college," said Sandra.

"What did you study?" Ava asked him.

"English Lit.," he replied with a smile. "English is such a beautiful language. Every book a work of art. Every poem an expression of the soul. Even the bad ones."

"Are you planning to return to your studies, Ava?" Amber asked her, ignoring her brother's flirtations. "You know... after you're finished here?"

"I haven't planned that far ahead."

Both of Amber's parents did the looking-thing, the shared glance which conveyed something Ava could not grasp. Perhaps it was related to instincts. Perhaps it was yet another of those human idiosyncrasies that escaped her understanding.

"Are you staying here long?" Scott asked.

"Until Sunday, at least. After that, I don't know."

There was a silence in the room, which Ava suspected could be classed as 'uncomfortable'. She suspected she was the cause of it, though she didn't entirely understand why. Clearly Sally Woodward had spoken to these people. They had obviously heard about her claims of an impending miracle. So did they doubt her, or did they think she was mentally disturbed? Why was it so hard for these people to have belief? For two thousand years, Christians had been verbally espousing their beliefs, even going on extended crusades to bring the word of God to 'heathens'. Why had they suddenly stopped believing? Was it because of science? Technology? Was God truly being replaced by false idols?

"This is just ridiculous," said Dylan, breaking the silence and putting his fork down on his plate. "We all know what people are saying. Are we just going to sit here and pretend we don't know about it, out of some false sense of politeness? Hell, I'll start it off if you want. Nina, we've heard that you talk to angels."

Everybody else in the room stopped eating and looked up at her.

"Angel," she corrected, helping herself to another piece of garlic bread. "Singular, not plural. And it talks to me. I just listen and obey. Ask questions if it will make you feel more comfortable."

"What... what does the angel sound like?" Sandra asked.

"At first it sounds like noise," she said. "White noise that is painful to the ears. After a time it becomes clearer. There is no real voice, just words inside my head."

"Your angel got a name?" asked Dylan.

"Probably. But I don't know what it is," she lied. There was, after all, power in names. A human who knew the name of an angel could pray to it at any time, and she was not willing to be at the beck and call of every human who wanted a favour. Not that she was under any onus to attend such a prayer—technically, Bobby was the only one who could directly summon her. But still, it would be an inconvenience.

"Are there a lot of angels?" Scott asked.

"The Hosts of Heaven are vast, but the number of angels here, on Earth, is quite small."

"Why did the angel send you here?" said Sandra. "I mean... there's a lot of suffering, all over the Earth. I'm sure that our little drought is nothing compared to the droughts in Africa, or Australia. Why our town?"

"I'm just a messenger," she replied. "I don't ask those sorts of questions."

"So you just go obediently along with what a voice inside your head tells you?" Dylan asked.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I have faith in God," she replied firmly.

"And you just take it on faith that this voice is telling you the truth, without any evidence?"

"That's what faith _is_," she pointed out. "Belief in the absence of evidence. If there was evidence, I wouldn't need to have faith, would I?"

"Very true. And I admire your conviction," he smiled. "It's nice to meet someone who stands up for what they believe in."

"Nina, what do your family think about you leaving college and... well... listening to angels?" Sandra asked.

"They are supportive."

"I'd be worried sick if Amber went off on her own," the family matriarch said, bestowing a smile on her daughter.

"I'm not on my own," Ava reminded her.

There was another of those uncomfortable silences, in which everybody became more focused on their meals. Except Dylan, who still watched her as often as he watched his plate. There was, Ava suspected, a fine line of religious belief that humans walked. It was all well and good to have faith in God and his messengers, but to claim that one of them was with you, talking to you, giving you orders, was pushing the boundaries of belief into religious fanaticism.

"I think I'll put Jack to bed," said Amber. "Nina, do you want to help? You're so good with him."

"Of course." She finished off her piece of garlic bread and followed Amber upstairs as the girl carried her son. The baby shared a room with his mother, his crib at the foot of her bed. Ava watched as Amber put him in the crib, kissed his forehead, then covered him with a blanket for the night. For a few minutes, Amber watched over her sleeping son, and when she finally spoke, it was quietly, as if she feared to be overheard.

"Nina... I have an admission to make. But I don't want you to think badly of me."

"What is it?" she asked.

"My reasons for inviting you to dinner were not exactly selfless. When Sally told me that an angel was speaking to you, I… I hoped to ask something of you. A favour. I don't even know if it's possible."

"Shoot," she said, an expression she had picked up from Bobby.

Amber turned to face her, and there were unshed tears in her eyes. "The reason my husband isn't here, is because he was shipped off to Afghanistan when Jack was five months old."

"He was a soldier?" she asked.

"Yes. He enlisted straight out of school, and this is his second tour. But it's been almost a month since I've heard anything from him. He's never gone this long without contacting me before."

"I understand how you feel," Ava said, hoping to offer words of comfort, even though she couldn't sympathise. "There have been soldiers in my family for as long as I can remember. But what does this have to do with me?"

"Well… I know I have no right to ask this… but I was wondering if your angel could see things. You know... people. I just want to know if my husband is alive. I'll understand if it can't be done."

"What is your husband's name?" she asked the girl.

"Jerry. Jeremy Cook."

"Do you have a photograph of him?"

Amber went to the bedside dresser, and picked up a framed picture of herself and Jack, along with a smiling, ginger-haired man with happy blue eyes.

"May I borrow this?" Ava asked.

"Uh… why?"

"It will help the angel look for your husband, if she knows what he looks like."

"Of course you can take it!" Amber said immediately. "And thank you. Thank you for even trying. Here, let me take it out of the frame for you."

Ava accepted the photograph from Amber, and folded it up, storing it in one of the pockets of her dress. "I'm not going to lie to you, Amber," she said. "Even if the angel _can_ find your husband… it might not be good news. Are you sure you want to know?"

"I'm sure. An answer… even the one I fear… would be better than living like this, not knowing whether my husband is ever going to come home. Not knowing whether Jack will grow up without his father. I need to know, Nina."

"Then I will ask."

"Thank you."

They left Jack in his crib and returned to the dining room, where Sandra was bringing out apple pie for everyone. It smelt nice, sweet, but Ava was in no mood for dessert. All she wanted to do was return to Reverend Woodward's house and search for Jerry Cook, then she could at least give Amber some peace of mind. Unfortunately, since she was posing as a human, she was bound by human social etiquette. That meant no running off to do angel work. It meant eating apple pie.

"Is Jack settled for the night?" Amber's father asked.

"Yeah, I think he'll sleep through."

"He seems to have taken a shine to you, Nina. You spent a lot of time around kids, in the past?"

"I have a younger brother and sister," she said, "and I used to help out at my town's Sunday school."

"And on Saturdays you trained to be a nun?" Dylan grinned.

"No, I've never trained to be a nun."

"It was a joke, Nina. I just meant because you're so whiter than white, I could easily imagine you wearing a habit."

"Oh behave, Dylan," his mother chastised. "Here you are, Nina. Home-made apple pie with icecream. Best in the whole town."

"Thank you," she said, and tucked into the pie. It was delicious, of course, though she would have preferred chocolate icecream to vanilla. When at last she finished the pudding, she looked up at the Thomsons. "I appreciate your hospitality, but I think I should return to the Reverend's home before Sally sends a search party."

"Of course," said Scott. "We don't want to worry Reverend Woodward… and we certainly don't want to bring down the wrath of Sally," he chuckled.

"I'd be more than happy to escort you home, Nina," Dylan offered.

"I am familiar with the way," she replied.

"I know, but I'm being chivalrous. When a handsome young college graduate offers to bravely escort a beautiful maiden such as yourself back to her place of residence, it's only polite to accept."

"Very well, I accept." In her head, Katie objected quietly, but Ava ignored her.

"It's been lovely to meet you, Nina," said Sandra. "I hope we'll see you again."

"I will be in church on Sunday," she agreed.

"Thanks for coming, Nina," Amber said. "And for listening to me."

"If you're ready, milady, we should make a start. Get you home before dark," Dylan smirked.

In the hallway, Ava took her coat from one of the hooks on the wall and pulled it on before following Dylan out of the house. There was still an hour or so before sunset truly began, but the temperature was showing no signs of cooling. The cause of this drought was not the same as it had been in Egypt, during the seven years of famine. That one had been caused by poor inundation of the Nile – a lack of nutrient-rich soil in the water had led to starvation. That wasn't the case, in Knott. Here it was unnatural heat that was drying out the soil, destroying not only the crops, and the plants, but the spirits of the people along with it. This was perhaps one of Lucifer's greatest weapons. To destroy a body was one thing, but to crush belief, to take away a person's faith in God, was the best way to open them up to doubt. People who doubted, who had nothing to believe in, grew frightened, and angry. It was just one way the demons had of getting in.

"Mind if I ask you a question?" Dylan asked, walking beside her.

"I don't mind."

"Did you grow up in a cult or something?"

She checked the expression on his face to see if he was serious, and decided that he mostly was.

"Of course not," she said. "Why do you even ask?"

"Well, I am a student of the English language, and I've observed that your way of talking is a bit... strange. Like you don't understand the context of some of the things you say. And I've never met anyone who thinks angels are talking to them before."

"Angels don't talk to just anyone," she countered.

"Plus, you are devoutly religious. In a sort of... brain-washed way."

"I'm not religious, I just have faith."

"What's the difference?"

"Religious people follow set routines and live their lives by restrictions."

"So you're one of those 'infinite intelligence' new-age spiritualist Christians?"

"I don't like to assign labels to myself. It's too... conformist."

"So," he said, giving her a warm smile, "a non-conformist new-age vegetarian Christian who loves kids and animals, and doesn't drink alcohol?"

"Something like that," she said, deciding to humour him. He obviously wasn't going to listen to her.

"And apart from being beautiful, intelligent and squeaky clean, what makes you so special? I mean, why do angels talk to you, and not some man of the cloth?"

"Honestly? I don't know," she lied. Angels could only possess certain vessels; vessels which carried particular blood lines dating back to even before Biblical times. But that fact was not something that angels liked to spread around, in case the demons cottoned on to the fact that if the angelic bloodlines were wiped out from humanity, angels would have no vessels to possess. No way to act on the Earth. No way to protect it.

"Well, whatever the reason, I'm glad you're here. And not only because I got to enjoy your company over dinner, either. I wanted to thank you."

"For what?"

"For hanging out with Amber this afternoon," he said. "It's not been easy for her, lately. When she and her friends left school, they all went off to college, but she wanted to get married, so she stayed. The first time Jerry was shipped off to A-Stan, she nearly went crazy with worry, but she started doing a correspondence course, one of those internet things, and it kept her occupied. She even started talking about studying again. Then... she got pregnant. Jerry was back long enough to knock her up, then he got sent off to fight again. Just... left her, with a five month old baby to take care of."

"It sounds like you don't approve," she observed.

"You're damn right I don't approve. What kind of a man leaves his family like that?"

"Perhaps he thought the war was worth fighting for." His words cut a little too close to home, for Ava. She, too, had abandoned her family, abandoned Heaven, to fight a war that was not hers, in a place that was not her home. The situation was not identical, of course, but it had a certain sort of synergy.

"Are you kidding me? Look around, Nina," he said, gesturing at the scenery around them. "Does this look like a terrorist hotspot to you? That fighting is halfway around the world. It doesn't affect us. It never would have. And yet Jerry just went running off when his master whistled for him. And why? Because the government and the media sells lies to patriotic idiots like him. They talk about fighting for freedom and the American way, and the good little puppets just stand up for the slaughter."

"You are angry," she said, pleased that she had figured his emotion out all by herself.

"Of course I'm angry. You'd be angry too, if someone had done this to your sister." His eyes were scowling, his brows furrowed.

"He… forced her into this? It was not her choice, to marry and have a child?"

"She was young, and stupid, and in love. She thought it was her choice, but Jerry always held her back. She gave up her dream of college to be with him, and now she's given up her entire future to take care of his child whilst he's off playing soldier with the boys. He had a responsibility to her, to his son, and he let them both down."

"Is that why you came back from your travels around the country?" she asked.

"Yeah, I came back to keep an eye out for my sister and nephew. Don't get me wrong, she can be a pain in the ass at times, but she's still my sister. And with Claire and all her other friends away at college, it's not like she had anyone else. That's why I wanted to thank you. I hope the two of you will be friends."

"I would like that," she said.

"Good," he smiled. Then he glanced up at the church in front of them. "Well, here we are, Nina. It really has been a pleasure meeting you tonight. I hope I'll see you around the house again."

"Will you be coming to prayer service on Sunday?"

"No. No offence to you and your angel, but I don't think God's listening anymore, if he ever was."

"That's very sad," she said, "but I understand your loss of faith. Thank you for escorting me home. Perhaps soon you'll be a full knight in shining armour."

"Yeah, maybe." He took her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it gently before letting it go. Katie objected and would have pulled her hand away, had Ava not been in control of it. "See you soon, Nina."

She watched him leave, and spent a moment contemplating how his lips felt against her skin. It was not unpleasant, but it did not invoke any sort of feelings within her. Not like chocolate icecream did. She turned away from watching Dylan, and set off across the green towards the house. Tonight, she had work to do.

_- o -_


	3. The Miracle

_**Fallen**_

_**Book 2: Knott in Need**_

Chapter 3

_- The Miracle -_

Being human… or pretending to be human… was difficult. It was something Ava was coming to understand slowly but surely. There were so many silly social nuances to observe. For example, humans always needed to greet each other when they met, even if they had been apart for less than a day, and they always seemed to need to use pleasantries when departing each others' company. Then there was the talking. The _constant_ talking, asking silly questions about how the day had been, and what you had been upto, and whether you wanted anything to eat. Ava could not go straight up to her room at the Reverend's house until she had greeted both the man and his wife, and answered their questions, and then asked the same questions back at them, minus the 'eating' question.

It was nine o'clock when she was finally able to retreat to the bedroom, claiming that she wanted to spend an hour praying before bed. Patch followed her into the bedroom, and once inside she firmly shut the door. Standing in front of the window, looking at the photograph of Amber and her husband and son by moonlight, she activated her Watcher-vision and searched for any sign of Jeremy Cook. Her silver eyes scanned mountain ranges and expanses of open desert in Afghanistan for several hours. Then, just as she was beginning to fear that he might be dead, she found him. He and a group of American soldiers were holed up in what appeared to be a makeshift bunker, a few miles away from a building; a military compound, Ava suspected.

She teleported herself to the bunker, but did not manifest. A woman appearing from nowhere would only have frightened the soldiers, so she remained invisible to their eyes as she walked amongst them. Though it was night time in America it was morning here, and the sun was hot and fierce. The air was dry, drier even than it was in Knott, and dust-devils whirled across the arid plains. Inside the bunker, the air was heavy and still. Some of the soldiers slept, though she sensed that their dreams were fitful and unpleasant. In a corner of the bunker, another soldier was doing something with communications equipment. Ava extended her hearing range to pick up radio and satellite waves, and heard people speaking over the device, orders being relayed from post to post. Something about an offensive on the nearby military compound.

She found Jerry Cook sitting on one of the bunks, a small square of paper in his hand held up in front of his face. Glancing _through_ the paper, she saw that it was a photograph of his wife and son. This, she decided, was a good sign. He obviously cared for his family, and was thinking about them even now. It was just a shame he had chosen to fight in this war, otherwise he might be with them, instead of here, in this bad-smelling hot bunker. But that was the choice he had made, and she was determined not to interfere with the choices of the humans on Earth. Though she could quite easily pluck Jerry from his bunker and return him to his family, it would only create a lot of problems for all of them.

There was a loophole, however. Though she could not change Jerry's mind about fighting in a petty human war, she could increase the chances that he would return to his family alive. She teleported to the nearby compound, where enemy soldiers were waiting inside their defences. Manipulating energy fields was like finger-painting to angels, and it took Ava only a minute to generate a field that not only shorted out every piece of electronic equipment inside the base, but also fused together wires which were in contact with each other. For the last time she extended her influence, causing the mechanical parts of every gun on the base to jam. Without communications or defences, these soldiers would be required to surrender, and Jerry would not be killed by a stray bullet or explosive device. Not today, anyway.

Her job done, she teleported away from the hot desert, back to the hot farmland of Kansas. Patch whined happily at her return, and she stroked his head. "Don't worry, boy," she said. "Soon this heat will be over, and you will be able to swim in the lake again."

The dog settled down on the floor beside the bed, and soon started snoring softly, his limbs twitching briefly as he chased something in his canine dream. Ava turned back to the window, looking out over the town, and waited for dawn to come.

o - o - o - o - o

"Nina, are you ready?"

Ava looked into the full length mirror as Sally's voice came floating up the stairs. The green dress she was wearing was new—at least, new to her. Amber had given it to her, claiming she hadn't been able to fit in it since getting pregnant, and when Ava had initially declined the dress, Amber had only enlisted Sally's help in forcing her to accept it. Humans were tricky like that. When they came at you in numbers, it was hard to know which one to watch.

"I'm coming," she called back, and mentally commanded Patch to stay before leaving the room and walking down the stairs. Reverend Woodward had already been in the church for hours, opening up and getting everything ready for service. In the living room, Ava found Sally looking out of the window, across the lawn.

"Looks like we've got a good turn-out," the woman remarked. "Over half the town, at least." She turned to Ava, and smiled. "You look beautiful in that dress, by the way. The green really suits your complexion."

"Thank you," she said.

"Are you nervous?"

"No. Why would I be nervous?"

"Well, it's the big miracle day, right? Aren't you even a little worried that the miracle won't happen?"

"Not in the slightest," she said confidently. "Have faith, Sally. God will provide."

"I pray that you're right," Sally replied. Ava could see the worry etched into her face, the tension in her smile, but she was not concerned. If the rest of the parishioners were as worried as Sally, or as skeptical as the Reverend, then it would make the miracle all the more miraculous. Affirming somebody's faith was nowhere near as powerful an act as restoring it entirely. "Well," Sally continued, "let's get going, shall we?"

Sally took Ava by the arm and led her out of the front door, and across the dying lawn. They strolled, because there was no hurry; sermon would not begin for fifteen minutes yet, and the townsfolk were still arriving at the church themselves. Once they reached the front door, Sally greeted some of the people by name, and a few of them said hello to Ava, too. She returned their silly gestures of greeting, though, because it was what Nina would have done.

A familiar feeling of peace settled over Ava when she stepped into the church, conveyed by the hallowed ground. Halfway down the aisles she saw Amber sitting with her family, and the young woman gestured her over when she caught sight of them.

"I saved you both a seat," said Amber, shuffling up to make room for Ava and Sally.

"Thank you," said Ava, and both she and Sally greeted Amber's parents too. "Where is Jack?"

"Dylan's looking after him. I didn't want to bring him with me in case he started crying. By the way Nina, that dress looks great on you. You wear it much better than I did."

Ava smiled at the compliment. The day before, she had told Amber that her husband was still alive and well, and the change in the woman was almost unbelievable. Gone was the air of hopelessness and despondency, replaced by a new spark of life. Now, Amber smiled and laughed despite the heat and the drought, and today she was dressed in her finest clothes, as if she was finally taking care of her appearance again.

As the minutes passed, Ava looked around at the rest of the congregation. Most of the benches were already full, and still the people were coming into the church. Mostly it was families, with a few couples, and some people of the elderly persuasion. Only a couple of the children present looked to be under the age of five, and she suspected that their families had kept the youngest children home, so as not to interfere with the service.

When Reverend Woodward appeared and called for all to rise for psalm, Ava picked up the copy of the hymn book in front of her and stood with everybody else. She already knew which hymn would be sung, because she had requested it of the Reverend the night before. _Abide With Me_ was one of her favourite hymns, and she had always enjoyed Watching it sung, when she was in Heaven. Now, however, she did not sing with everyone else to the accompaniment of the church organ. Having seen what effect her voice had on grown men and crying infants, she decided to merely mime the words instead. The last thing she wanted was a church full of people sleeping, or worse, sobbing like children.

The hymn finished, the organ stopped playing, and everybody sat down again. Reverend Woodward began his sermon, but Ava didn't bother listening. She was already familiar with the Bible, and it had been altered in so many small ways over the centuries that only half of it was the original work. Too many times, men had changed little things within the words, introducing concepts and ideas to control their fellows, or to teach messages which God had not originally intended.

Instead of listening, she looked out of one of the church windows, at the blue sky above, and began subtly manipulating pockets of air, pulling them here and there, lacing currents together so that when the time was right, all she would need to do was give everything a little push in the right direction. All angels could affect the weather in some way, and sometimes an angel's mere presence brought storms with it, but most of the time, other angels could only do clumsy and amateurish things with the weather; all power, but little control. The grigori alone amongst the angels had enough finesse to control weather—granted, on a very small scale—to such an extent that they could cause a violent storm, or a mere spring shower of rain. Had she wished, she could have made it begin to snow, like the flakes in one of those little glass snow-globes the humans liked so much. She could have produced a blizzard, burying the town in minutes despite the heat. She could have created a gentle breeze, or hurricane-force winds. All she wanted now, however, was light rain. Something to win the faith of the people and dampen the ground, making it more receptive to further precipitation in the coming days.

So focused was she on tying air currents together, that she almost missed the end of the sermon. When she realised the Reverend was finishing his lesson for the day, she focused on his words once more.

"And now," he said, "let us bow our heads for the Lord's Prayer."

This was it. Ava mimicked the actions of the humans, bowing her head, clasping her hands in front of her, and closing her eyes. She didn't need her eyes open to work the weather. It was like child's play, to a grigori. Easier than finger-painting.

_"Our father, who art in Heaven,_

_ Hallowed be thy name,_

_ Thy Kingdom come,_

_ Thy will be done,_

_ On Earth, as it is in Heaven,__"_

Ava chose that moment to begin the miracle. She collapsed one of the pockets of air, and a heavy boom of thunder rolled across the sky, loud enough to cause everything in the church to vibrate. She heard shocked whispers, and for a moment, Reverend Woodward stopped speaking, but when no further peals came, he continued.

_"Give us this day, our daily bread,_

_ And forgive us our trespasses,_

_ As we forgive those who trespass against us,__"_

Now, Ava pulled one of the threads of an air current, rapidly cooling a section of the sky. Immediately, water began to condense from the air, forming white clouds, which she pushed through the sky until they blocked out the light of the sun. Even with her eyes closed, she felt it go darker inside the church, and the temperature dropped suddenly as the sun's heat was cut off. Again, Woodward faltered briefly, but he kept going, seemingly determined to get to the end of the prayer.

_"And lead us not into temptation,_

_ But deliver us from evil,_

_ For thine is the Kingdom,_

_ The power and the glory,__"_

Ava pulled at the rest of the threads, and an entire cold front unravelled before her. Cumulus clouds formed in the sky, and though there was no more thunder, it took only a few seconds for the rain to start to fall. The raindrops came at first as a gentle patter, like the footsteps of sparrows on a roof. Then they became heavier, steadier, and the Reverend stopped speaking, which was just as well, because by now everybody in the church had their eyes open, and the people at the back nearest the door were starting to rush outside. As soon as they realised it was raining, everybody began to stand and leave, hurrying to the door, or the windows, to make sure it truly was raining.

Ava let everybody else leave first, including Sally, Amber and her family, listening to their excitement, their laughter, watching their tears of happiness. Adults and children alike were just standing outside the church, looking up at the white-grey sky, ignoring the way the rain fell into their eyes. The youngest of the children ran around the adults, chasing each other, churning the dry ground to mud, laughing at how dirty they were getting, and how their parents did not even care. One man was even on his knees, his hands clasped in front of him in prayer or thanks. Ava herself felt the raindrops soaking her skin and the new green dress, but she ignored it all. She was an angel; she could dry herself any time she wished.

"How did you know?"

She looked up to find Reverend Woodward standing beside her, staring at his congregation as they let the rain fall on their bodies, washing away their doubts and their disbelief.

"I told you," she said. "An angel spoke to me."

"I'm sorry I doubted you."

"Don't be. I asked a lot of you. But now you have a difficult task ahead of you."

"And what's that?" he asked.

She nodded at the soaked men, women and children. "Now, you have to keep them coming back."

"Somehow, I don't think that will be a problem."

Secretly, she agreed. It was regrettable that these people had _needed_ a miracle to restore their faith, but these appeared to be the times she was living in. At least now they would believe, and hopefully they would keep believing for the rest of their lives. All Ava had to do now was find a way to permanently fix the weather back to its normal pattern, and she could be on her way.

o - o - o - o - o

The waters of the lake had risen by a few centimetres over the past week and a half. It wasn't enough to restore the town and save the crops, but it was a start. Every day, Ava had made it rain for an hour or two. Enough to provide moisture for the ground, but not enough to cause flooding and landslides. This was a precision thing she was trying to do, and it took a lot of concentration to control the rain, to know when enough was enough.

So far, she hadn't been able to restore the natural weather patterns. Something was working against her, but she didn't know what. Certains demons—particularly Azazel, as a former grigori—or enough demons in force, could affect weather similarly to Ava, but there were no demons in this town, she was certain of it. Every angel could see a demon's true face, as well as sense the presence of them in the immediate area. No, there was no demon here, but there must be… something. Something powerful enough to affect the whole town, and clever enough to remain hidden from her sight.

"Nina Charles?" somebody asked behind her.

She turned from the lake, and found two young women watching her. They were virtually identical; both wore black jeans, black t-shirts and black bomber jackets, which seemed foolish to Ava, given the current temperature. Both had long blonde hair which fell down past their shoulders, both had grey eyes, and a light spattering of freckles across their noses. Identical twins, she realised. By her feet, Patch growled threateningly, his lips curled back and his ears flat against his head.

"Your dog doesn't seem too friendly," one of the girls said, in a strong English accent. She was eyeing Patch warily.

"He believes you wish me harm," she replied. "Dogs are very good at sensing intent. They smell things humans cannot; Fear. Anger. Violence. I don't recognise you from town. Are you new here?"

"That's right," the other girl said, with an accent every bit as English as her sister's. "Got here yesterday. Been hearing a lot about you, though. We'd like to ask you some questions. If you don't mind, of course."

"Of course," she replied. She barely even needed Patch's warning growls; she could see that these two women were dangerous, and nothing about their words, their posture or their tone of voice spoke of friendship. But because she didn't want Patch to be hurt, she bent down and stroked the dog's head, issuing him a mental command. _Go home and wait for me._

The girls watched the dog run off, and then one of them spoke again, but they didn't come any closer, and they didn't look any more relaxed.

"What do you get out of this?"

"I don't understand your question," Ava replied.

The girl smiled. "Oh, we've figured out your little spell. We know exactly how you're controlling the weather here. What we don't understand is _why_? What do you get out of it? Or are you just blindly serving your master for some promise of later reward?"

"Spell? Master?" Ava shook her head. "I think you are confusing me with somebody else. Do you think I am a demon?" she asked. If they knew about spells, they were probably hunters.

One of the girls smiled. "No, we think you're a witch. Serving a demon. We also think you're going to reverse your spell and put this town back the way it used to be. Or we'll make you holy."

Both young women pulled handguns, training them on Ava.

"That was a very poor joke," she said. "I am already holy. Your weapons cannot harm me. I suggest you put them away. I am not a witch and I have no desire to harm you."

"Yeah, right," one of the girls said with a sneer. "You just happen to come along a few weeks after this drought started, claiming to be able to save the whole town, and on the very day you claimed a miracle would happen, it did. So now you're the new golden-child in town, everybody singing your praises. And that's all just a coincidence?"

"No, it's no coincidence," she replied. "This truly is the Lord's work."

"Pip," the other girl said to her sister, "shoot her in the leg. That'll show her we're serious."

"This is your last chance, witch," the other girl said. "Are you going to undo your spell, or am I going to shoot you in the leg?"

"There is no spell to undo, so I suspect you're going to shoot me in the leg," Ava said.

There was a loud _bang_, and Ava felt a momentary sharp pain in her thigh muscle, but it healed almost instantly, and the bullet was pushed out of her flesh, dropping to the ground. Both girls stared at it.

"You owe me a new dress," said Ava, fingering the hole in the skirt of the garment where the bullet had pierced the material. "That felt like an iron bullet. You might want to use silver, too, and holy water, and dead man's blood, if you want to be sure I'm not some sort of evil monster."

"What the hell?" one of the blondes demanded. Then she lifted her gun higher, aiming it at Ava's head. "What are you?"

Ava sighed. She had been hoping to avoid this. But these people appeared to be hunters, so they would probably be a little more open-minded than the townfolk.

"I am an angel of the Lord," she said.

"Yeah right, pull the other one," the other sister scoffed. "There's no such thing as angels."

"You mustn't have got the memo, then," she mused. "I thought all hunters knew about angels by now, what with the apocalypse and all."

"Right. Apocalypse. Sure."

"So… you really don't know that Lucifer is free from his cage and walking the Earth?" she asked. She'd thought that all hunters knew about it; they kept pretty close tabs on each other, passed around word of important things like the apocalypse and the existence of angels. How could these two be so oblivious?

"Try the holy water," one of the girls said to the other. "It might be a demon after all."

It was time to end this nonsense, Ava decided. She extended her angelic reach to the skies and whipped up dark stormclouds over the lake which blocked out the light of the sun. At the same time she engaged her Watcher-vision, allowing her eyes to shine silver, and she caused a flash of lightning to arc across the sky, illuminating a shadow of her wings briefly against the background of the clouds. The water of the lake began to stir, small waves whipped up by a wind that seemingly came from nowhere. Both girls took a step back as their hair blew around their faces.

Content that her display had been effective, she allowed the clouds to dissipate and deactivated her Watcher-vision. The waters of the lake went still once more, and the sunlight broke through the clouds.

"Jesus Christ," one of the girls said, raising her gun again. "Don't come any closer."

This was not going well. A change of scenery might convince the girls to be more reasonable. Ava teleported, taking both young women with her. The place they arrived in was as hot and as arid as the town had been. It was a dry-stone desert, interspersed only with gnarled, dwarf trees and scraggly yellow grass. There were sun-bleached bones lying not far away; some animal that hadn't been able to find water or shelter before succumbing to the heat of the sun. As soon as they landed, both girls went staggering, unused to the dizzying motion of teleportation. When they realised they were no longer in Kansas, they turned on the spot, looking at the desert, the trees, the bones. Unfortunately, they did not lower their guns.

"What the hell did you just do to us?" one of them demanded.

"I teleported us to another location on the Earth." She glanced around at the type of grass and the dwarfed trees in the area. "Australia, it seems. I wonder why we came here."

"What? You just... you brought us all the way across the Earth and you don't know _why_?"

"When I teleport without a destination in mind, I appear somewhere at random. It makes things more interesting. But on the bright side, at least I didn't teleport us into the vent of an active volcano. That would have been… uncomfortable… for the both of you."

"You take us back, right now," one of the girls said, cocking her gun.

"Or what? You'll shoot me again with a weapon that cannot hurt me? And if I take you back, you'll… what? Continue firing your gun, drawing the attention of the people of the town? Even if they haven't already heard your first shot, how do you think they'll react if you continue? I'll return you to Knott when you have proven yourselves to be mature and civilised human beings. Now, are you willing to talk, or would you like to shoot me some more?"

The girls looked at each other, and then put their weapons away. Ava took a step towards them, her hands held out to show they were empty.

"Good. So, should we introduce ourselves properly?" she asked. "My name is Avariel. I am an angel of the Lord."

"You're… not kidding, are you?" one of the girls asked. "You are actually an angel. A real, live angel."

"I'm not so sure," the other said. "I'd like to see those wings again."

"I am an angel of the Lord, a divine Watcher of Heaven, not a member of a freak show to be paraded around for all to see," Ava warned, collapsing a pocket of air in the sky to produce a boom of thunder.

"Whoa, sorry, just don't smite us, okay?"

"I'm not going to smite you," Ava said impatiently. "But I do want to know your names. And then you're going to tell me what you were doing in Knott, and why you thought I was a witch."

"I'm Merry," the girl said, and gestured to her sister. "She's Pippin."

Ava looked at them both. "Is that… humour? Merry and Pippin are characters from a book. They were also in a film. They are hobbits, I believe."

"No, it's short for Meredith and Philippa. Carver. Those are our names."

"And what were you doing in Knott?"

"Well," Pippin spoke up, "we heard about some demonic omens in the area. Freaky weather anomalies. Figured we'd check it out. That's when we heard about you. Had a look around that Reverend's house while you were out and didn't find any traces of sulphur, so we jumped to the next logical conclusion; a witch."

"We'd heard of a spell that could be used to control weather," Merry continued. "Serious dark magic. When we couldn't find your altar, though, we decided to confront you. I guess the fact that you're an angel explains why you don't have an altar. But what were _you_ doing in Knott?"

"Making it rain, mostly," she admitted. "The town has been suffering drought for weeks. I've been trying to fix the weather there, permanently, but something has been fighting me, resisting any changes I make. All I knew was that it wasn't demons."

"How'd you know that?"

"I can see them. All angels can. We can sense them."

"So you're just like a walking demon detector?"

"If you wish to cheapen the celestial nature of my existence, yes."

"Sorry, no offence."

"None taken." She eyed the two girls up, trying to read their auras. It was difficult to do so with unfamiliar humans; the more time an angel spent around a person, the more they became attuned to the vibrational energy of a body and soul, but it was possible to get a rough estimation, in a pinch. What she detected from these two was… caution. Caution and secrets, but an overall desire to help, even if it meant shooting somebody in the leg. Unfortunately, they'd already shot the wrong person once, and she doubted they'd be less indiscriminate next time. "I know the people of Knott," she said. "They are good, quiet people. I do not think any of them would ever involve themselves in dark magic."

"Well maybe you don't know them as well as you think," said Merry. "You say it can't be demons, but I don't know of anything else, other than a witch, that could pull something like this off. Do you?"

She did; other angels. But she doubted any other angel was involved with this. It was much more likely to be the forces of evil at work. "You said that you've heard of a spell that can be used to control weather?" she asked.

"That's right," said Pippin guardedly.

"Where did you hear of such a spell?"

"From a spellbook," said Merry.

"And did this spellbook have a counter-spell, by any chance?"

"As a matter of fact it did."

"Then why not just cast the counter-spell to reverse the witch's hold on the weather?" she asked.

"Are you kidding?" Merry said, giving her a level look. "There are a ton of ingredients for the spell, half of which we couldn't even get our hands on if we tried."

"Such as?"

"The crushed root of a hundred year old Lebanese fig tree," said Pippin. "Where do you get something like that?"

"Lebanon, I assume."

"Yeah, which is half-way across the world. And that's just one of the ingredients."

"Give me the list," Ava offered. "I will get your ingredients."

"You… want to work with us?" Merry said.

"It is not a matter of want, but of need," she told them. "Besides, I have worked with hunters before. If I get your ingredients, can you do the spell?"

Merry and Pippin looked at each other, and came to some silent agreement.

"It won't be easy," Pippin said, "but I think we can work it."

"Then it is agreed. The list?"

"It's back at our place. We're renting a little bedsit in Knott for a few days."

"What is the address?" Ava asked.

"316 Plum Avenue. But maybe we should—"

Ava did not wait to hear the rest of the sentence. She teleported herself and the two women to the address Pippin had given her, and they materialised inside a sitting room in the upstairs area of a large house. A teenage boy, who had just seconds earlier been reading through an old tome whilst idly listening to MTV in the background, suddenly jumped up as the three women appeared, and he swore in surprise.

"Holy shit!"

Ava looked at his unruly brown hair, his faded INXS t-shirt, his patchwork jeans and the plaid shirt he wore over the tee.

"You must be Gandalf," she said, stepping towards him to let the two girls pass.

"No, this is Danny," Pippin said. "He's our brother."

"Nice to meet you, Danny," said Ava, offering her hand. "My name is Avariel."

"How the hell did you get in here?" he demanded, ignoring Ava's hand and staring at his sisters. His accent confirmed that the whole family was indeed from England. That might explain their lack of knowledge about the apocalypse, Ava suspected. If they'd only just come to the US, they might not be aware of recent events.

"Avariel is an angel, apparently," Merry said. "She's here to help with the weather thing."

"Are you kidding me? An honest to God angel?" he asked, staring now at Ava with wide blue-grey eyes. "Wow. It's... wow... it's an honour to meet you," he said, shaking her hand enthusiastically.

She smiled. "I've had this body for over a month, and you are the first human to show me true respect. It is an honour to meet you too, Danny."

"You're only a month old?" Merry demanded.

"Of course not. I am countless thousands of years old. I've only been here on Earth for a month, however."

"Because of the apocalypse?" Pippin asked.

"That's right."

"Apocalypse?" Danny spluttered. "As in... end of days? From the Bible?"

"Yes," she replied. "The unnatural weather in this town is just one symptom of a larger disease, that disease being Lucifer and the fact that he is free from his cage and walking the Earth."

"Damn. The world isn't going to end in December 2012, is it? You know, that whole Mayan prophecy thing?"

"Of course not. The whole Mayan thing is as ridiculous as that Y2K bug you humans panicked about." Danny looked relieved by her words. "I suspect we won't have that long. We'll be lucky if we make it to 2011, the way things are going at the moment."

"Oh."

"One problem at a time," said Merry, thrusting a piece of paper at Ava. "The ingredients. I've crossed out the ones we already have. Do you think you can get the rest, or not?"

"Hmm, let me see," she said, scanning the list of items. "The fig root should be no problem. Soil from unholy ground? Yes, I can visit Auschwitz for that, it more than qualifies. The feather of a newly slaughtered raptor? Hmm, that must be for the 'air' aspect of weather control. I must say that I am morally opposed to the killing of animals for no purpose… but since this does have a purpose, I will find one that is weak, elderly or sickly, but I won't like it. The blood of an innocent? That could be… troublesome."

"Oh, don't worry, that just means a virgin," Merry grinned. "We usually use Danny for that."

"Shut up, Meredith," the boy scowled as his cheeks went red.

"It is nothing to be ashamed of, Danny," Ava told him. "My vessel is a virgin too. Unfortunately, her blood will not work for such rituals for as long as I am occupying her body."

"Whoa, wait," Pippin objected immediately, "you're possessing that girl's body? Like demons do?"

"It's nothing like what demons do," she corrected. "Angels cannot take unwilling hosts. We must ask permission from our vessels, and be granted it freely, before we can inhabit them. Katie agreed to this. It was her decision, and she knows she is serving God by aiding me."

"I am not at all comfortable with this."

"Comfortable or not," said Merry, "we need those ingredients for that spell. I don't think we have time to sit around discussing morality right now. We've been asking some pretty… pointed… questions of the people in town. If there are witches here, they might know hunters are onto them."

"I will return when I have everything," Ava said, and teleported to Lebanon.

_- o -_


	4. Attack and Retreat

_**Fallen**_

_**Book 2: Knott in Need**_

Chapter 4

_- Attack and Retreat -_

The joy of being an angel—in particular, a Watcher—was that you didn't have to be physically present in a location to see what was happening there. And whilst most angels needed to be spiritually present to observe something, grigori did not. Once Ava had locked on to another being, whether it was a human, another angel, or something as simple as a tree, she could Watch it whenever she chose, and when she wasn't directly watching she kept the 'channel' open in the background of her mind. And so, as she unhappily slaughtered a falcon that was already dying from eating a poisoned mouse, she Watched the Carver siblings as they discussed the events of the afternoon in their bedsit.

_"I don't like this," Pippin reiterated. "What do we even know about her?"_

_"Other than the fact that she's a freaking angel?" Danny replied. _

_"Sounds like someone's been touched by an angel alright," said Merry, rolling her eyes at her little brother. "Look, Pip, I know you don't like it, and I know we always agreed to work alone, but what other choice do we have? We were so sure Avariel was the witch. If it's not her, who else could it be? Do we really have time to go poking around delicately, trying to tease out little bits of relevant information? I say if Avariel can get the stuff, we do the counter-spell and hope it draws the witch out. If we can waste whoever it is, we can guarantee nobody else will screw around with this place."_

_"It's just... we should have discussed it first," Pippin said. "This affects all of us."_

_"Nonsense. It's just one spell. Once we've fixed what's wrong here, we'll leave. The angel can stay, or go wherever the hell she wants. We'll be back on the road in a couple of days. It will be fine. Don't worry about it."_

_"Sometimes I think you don't worry enough," Pippin said, in a wry tone of voice._

_"It would be so cool to work with an angel," Danny said._

_"Cool for all of five minutes before you got fed up of the sermons about God." Merry dismissed her brother's idea immediately. "Trust me, we're better off without all that religious crap. Hell, you don't even __**believe**__ in God.__"_

_"Well, that was before I met an angel," countered Danny. "I mean, if she's real, then God's got to be real, right? So that means... the creationists are right. Evolution is wrong. Eugh, I suddenly feel unclean."_

_"Or maybe she's just a really powerful witch or demon," Merry said._

_"I dunno... the things she can do, the things we saw," Pippin said doubtfully. "She had wings. Actual, real wings. And that lightning… not to mention Australia!"_

_"Maybe those were just psychic projections. Maybe we never even left Knott."_

_"Then how did you get into this room?" Danny asked._

_"Some demons can teleport, or so I've heard. And I'm sure it's something a witch could do."_

_"If she was a witch, why would she be helping us?" Pippin pointed out._

_ Merry shrugged. __"Get us off her trail by throwing one of her underlings in our path?"_

_ Pippin shook her head. __"You're paranoid."_

_"My paranoia keeps us safe. You're naïve."_

As an argument ensued, Ava stopped Watching the family. It didn't particularly matter to her whether they believed her, as long as they could perform the spell. But if they were right, and it brought the witch out of hiding, it could be dangerous for them. Perhaps it would be prudent to observe them as they cast the spell. Yes, she decided, that would be for the best. She plucked a wing feather from the falcon, and put it into the box she had brought along for the rest of the ingredients. The sooner she could end this witch's spell, the sooner she could continue helping people.

o - o - o - o - o

The bedsit smelt as if somebody had mixed together crushed root from a hundred year old Lebanese fig, human blood, the feather of a freshly slaughtered bird, and then mixed in a handful of herbs just to make it interesting. In essence, that was what somebody had done. It had taken Ava almost a day to collect everything required, and then half of the next day for the sisters to mix the ingredients in the correct quantities, in the correct order, over the correct heat. The pan on the stove was a far cry from a witch's cauldron, but it would have to suffice.

"I don't understand," Ava said, as she peered over the pan that Pippin was stirring as Danny added a small measure of sage. "If you did not have the ingredients necessary to cast the counter-spell before you met me, how did you intend to stop the witch or witches?"

"By wasting them," Merry said, using her finger to draw a line across her throat to demonstrate the point.

"The weather controlling spell," Danny elaborated, "isn't just cast once. It has to be maintained, for the ill-effects to continue. To maintain it, the witch uses their blood, spilling it on a dark altar, to fuel the drought. One of the ways of breaking the spell is to spill the blood of the witch. Um… all of it."

"You seem to be very knowledgeable about magic," Ava observed.

"Well it's not like I have anything else to do, except sit around and read books," he said, with a scowl for Merry. "If my sisters would let me go hunting with them every once in a while, I might actually learn something other than theory."

"We're not having this conversation now, Danny," said Merry.

"Why not? I can shoot a gun just as well as you can, and I've trained in armed combat since I was seven years old."

"How old are you, Danny?" Ava asked.

"Sixteen."

"In many cultures, your brother would be old enough to vote and marry," Ava told Merry. "Why do you prevent him from hunting with you?"

"Because it's not safe," said Merry. "And I'll thank you for keeping your nose out of our business."

"I think this is ready," Pippin said, giving the pan one final stir.

"Alright," Merry said, standing straight, focused on the task, "what next?"

"We have to take the potion and spill it on ground affected by the drought. A bit of easy latin chanting, and Bob's your uncle."

"Bobby is your uncle?" Ava asked, surprised. Bobby hadn't mentioned anything about having nieces and nephews.

"It's just an expression," Danny told her.

"The book _did_ say, however," Pippin continued, "that when this counter-spell is cast, a lot of magic energy is going to be released. Whatever the witch has been manipulating will have been stored somewhere, and the counter-spell will just let it all out. It might be best if we did it as far from the town as we can get."

"I know of some fields, on the outskirts," Ava said. "I saw them when I was walking into town. I don't think anybody will disturb us, out there."

"Great, it's a plan," said Merry. "Pip, put that potion in a bottle with a stopper. I don't want us spilling any. I'll grab weapons. Danny, pack up this place and pay the bill. We'll be heading out as soon as it's done."

"But I want to come with you," Danny moaned.

"No. Pack up. Pay the bill. We'll be back as soon as it's done, so don't dawdle. Avariel, how far to those fields?"

"A couple of miles, but I can take us there immediately."

"Good. Pip, how's that potion coming?"

"Can't rush perfection," the other twin replied. She was carefully pouring the potion into a bottle over the sink. "There, that should be more than enough. You'll wanna grab the grimoire though, it's got the chant."

Merry handed a pistol to Pippin, loaded up a shotgun, and then picked up a dark, leather-bound book from the arm of the sofa. She nodded at Ava. "Ready."

Ava touched the shoulders of both women, and teleported them to the field she had in mind, after glancing ahead to ensure it truly was empty. A touch was not technically required for teleportation, but it did make it easier, and less taxing for an angel if they were in physical contact with their intended passengers. When they arrived in the field, the twins looked dizzied for a moment, but they recovered quickly enough.

"Thanks for the lift," said Merry, "but we got it from here."

"You do not want me to stay and help?"

"No, it's fine. We work best alone anyway. Really, we appreciate all you've done, but as soon as this thing's finished, we're out of here. You might wanna stick around for a while and make sure the weather's really back to normal, though."

"Very well," she agreed.

She turned herself invisible, but did not leave. Instead she stood back, to watch the young women as they went about their tasks. They seemed to know what they were doing, because they worked in silence. When Pippin had cleared the dying crops in a small patch of the field, exposing bare earth, Merry opened the stopper on the bottle, and waited whilst her sister picked up the grimoire and turned to the relevant page.

"Sie nos spiritus de loco isto in terra, spiritus, ventus, ignis et aqua. Ut nos dicimus, quod ruptis vinculis teneat servitio. Adhibenda te renuntiares vacare praecipio. Quod factum est infectum. Futurum est voluntate."

Before Merry could start pouring the potion onto the ground, both girls were knocked backwards, the grimoire flying out of Pippin's hands, and the bottle of potion levitating just above the ground, out of Merry's reach.

"Now now, girls," said a familiar voice. "You shouldn't be out here performing such dark rituals. It's unbecoming."

Ava did not want to believe it. Dylan was walking through the field, stepping into the area where the twins were performing the counter-spell. He was the one who had thrown them aside as if they were nothing. He was the witch. She had looked in his eyes, and not seen the evil lurking beneath. And, as she watched, he picked up the bottle of potion and incinerated it with his touch.

When he drew a curved dagger and began advancing towards the twins, who were seemingly pinned on the ground, Ava walked around behind Dylan, then manifested herself.

"Dylan," she said. "What's going on here?"

"It's good you're here, Nina," he replied, looking troubled. "These two are witches, and I caught them trying to perform some sort of spell. They're the ones responsible for the drought."

"Really?" she asked. "These two strangers, who have never been to town before, caused the drought? The same drought which, coincidentally enough, started around the same time you got back from your road trip?"

He gave her a sinister smile, and turned to face her. He did not appear to know what she was, because he had called her 'Nina', and because if he had known she was an angel, he would have run instead of turning.

"Can't get anything past you, Nina," he said. Suddenly, the green eyes that had looked at her so approvingly were full of loathing and hate. "So I lied. To my family. The road-trip wasn't quite the drinking binge I'd let on. Well, not entirely. There was plenty of alcohol, at first. Then we came across an old book, just lying in some old house we were holed up in for the night. And we thought it might be fun to do one of the spooooky rituals. But guess what? Turns out the book was real. We summoned something. Something that told us a storm was coming. Something that offered us power, and rewards, if we picked the right side to fight on."

Ava closed her eyes, and shook her head. "You foolish boy. You climbed into bed with a demon, and you think you'll be rewarded?"

"Oh, I know I will." He grinned a frightening smile. "See, I know what's out there, now. I know that the devil walks free. And I know that when he's won the war, he'll be grateful to everyone who played their parts."

"Lucifer will not be grateful to you," she said. "He hates humanity. He will consider you nothing more than an amusing fly, and he will swat you the first chance he gets."

"That's not how I hear it. But then, it seems we're on different sides. You have an angel whispering in your ear, and I have a demon whispering in mine. Maybe we should have a show-down. Right here, right now. See whose side is the strongest. Good little church-going Nina… or me."

"You didn't really come back to look out for your sister and Jack, did you?" she asked, stepping closer to him.

He let her approach, confident of his own power, and laughed scornfully. "What, the doormat and her noisy brat? As if I'd tie myself down with those two. It's all I can do to stay in the same house as them. But it's remarkable, how you mindless sheep just fall into believing the lies."

She took another step forward, into striking distance of the knife. "So… you're going to kill me?"

"Unfortunately, yes. As amusing as it's been to have you to play with, you and these two bitches are in my way. Tell me… where's your God now, Nina?"

He lifted his hand and brought the knife down fast, slashing towards her neck. She reached out with her hand, catching his arm, holding it an inch away from her flesh. She could see confusion starting to grow on his face; he should have been far stronger than slender little 'Nina'. And even when he pushed with all his strength, he couldn't make the knife budge that last inch.

"My God is right here," she said quietly. "Where is yours?"

She twisted his arm, along with his hand and the knife, turning it away from her, and it plunged into Dylan's thoracic region. She felt the metal slip between two ribs, slicing through muscle, nicking one of the major arteries close to his heart. He gasped for breath and spat out blood, his hand spasming around the hilt of the blade which he still grasped. As the light of life began to fade from his eyes, she lowered him to the ground.

"I lied too, Dylan," she told him. "I don't have an angel talking to me. I _am_ an angel. Your fate was sealed from the moment we met."

Shock and horror entered his eyes in the instant they went cold and unseeing. Ava looked up to see a man in a black suit crouching down beside the dying human. As soon as the soul was removed from the body, the Reaper looked up at Ava briefly, and then disappeared. She did not have to guess what the horror in Dylan's eyes meant. Reapers were merely agents of death; they did not decide where the souls went, they just separated them from the body. Dylan's soul was bound for Hell; he had sold it without even knowing what he had done, and now it would suffer for all eternity in the pit, until it too became a demon. For as long as human souls remained corruptible, there would be demons. It was how they were born.

She heard movement, and in her peripheral vision she saw Merry and Pippin pushing themselves to their feet, but she did not take her eyes off the body of the young man. This was the first time she had ever killed something. The falcon didn't count, because it was already dying. She had just taken a human life. Despite all of her good intentions, she had been put into a position where she was between a rock and a hard place. Dylan had incinerated the potion. The only way to end the spell, to save the town, had been to end his life. But the man she had killed had been somebody's son. Somebody's brother. Somebody's uncle. Human lifespans were already short enough, and she had just snuffed one out after it had barely begun.

Before either of the twins could say anything, she closed her eyes, and teleported.

o - o - o - o - o

Ava returned to her bedroom in the Reverend's house, and looked at herself in the mirror. Her dress not only had a hole in it, but it was spattered with the blood of Dylan Thomson. Reaching under the bed, she took out the bag she had arrived with, and pulled out Jo's clothes given to her by Bobby. She took off the dress and teleported it to a random garbage incinerator, destroying it. Then she dressed in the jeans, shirt, blouse and boots, and looked around the room.

She could not stay here. Not only was her work complete, but she had also killed a person. She could not see these people again. How could she face Reverend Woodward and Sally, who had welcomed her into her home, and tell them that she was a killer? What would she say to Amber? She had saved the girl's husband, but murdered her brother. One good deed did not negate a bad one.

Picking up her now empty bag, she left the room and went downstairs. Patch whined at her from in front of the fire, asking why she had left him alone, and she realised that she had been gone for a day and a half. She hadn't even thought about coming back here, to assure the Woodwards that she was alright. Bending down, she stroked the dog's head. _I have to go,_ she told him. _Be good_.

She went to the telephone, picked up the receiver, and dialled a number. It rang three times, and then a man's voice answered.

"This better be good."

"I need to see you," she said.

"Silicon Valley, the Dempsey Building, Vice chairman's office."

She hung up the phone and teleported into the room in question. Gabriel was sitting behind a desk in an executive leather chair. He was dressed in a fancy suit and tie, his hair coiffed to one side. When she arrived he leant back in the chair and folded his arms behind his head to observe her.

"You like?" he asked. "Armani. I'm the Vice CEO of this company. They design, manufacture and distribute parts for various home appliances... washing machines, fridges, vacuum cleaners, ad infinitum."

"Why?" she asked, putting her own concerns aside for a moment. "What is your purpose here?"

"Well, this company was founded on strong, family-friendly morals and a strict code of ethics. Every summer they have a company picnic, all the little tykes of the bigwigs and the little folk alike, running around, playing games and having fun. But the thing most people don't know is this whole company runs off child labour. That's right, a couple of hundred of kids in Bangladesh work for peanuts night and day, in hazardous conditions... some of them lose digits and limbs. And while all that's going on, these assholes sit on their thrones and rake in the cash so they can buy their wives a new SUV every year and a holiday home in France."

"And…?"

"And I'm going to bring the whole thing down," he grinned. "Burn it all to the ground. Oh, don't give me that look, I don't mean literally, it's a figure of speech. You see, there's about to be an investigation into the dealings of the company. Seems somebody high up the chain… c'est moi… has tipped off the media. Give it a week and these fat-cats will be destitute paupers."

"So this is justice?"

"More than that... it's delicious poetic justice." He sat up in his chair, and gestured to a smaller chair on the other side of the desk, inviting her to sit. "But enough about me. What brings you here? Is it the boys?"

"No, I haven't seen anything of them since we last spoke. They must be out on a job, away from Bobby or Castiel."

"Then why did you come?"

"I… have killed a human," she admitted.

"And?"

"And it makes me feel bad."

"Why?" he asked, looking confused. "You're not the first grigori to kill a human. Not even the first angel. Hell, in a good week, I get two or three."

"And you feel nothing, afterwards?"

"Other than a sort of tingly feeling? No. And that's how it should be. We're angels, ma cherié. Sometimes, wasting humans is just part of the job. Just out of curiosity, why'd you do it?"

"The man was a witch, and he attacked me."

"Killing in self-defence? There's nothing wrong with that," he shrugged. "It's not like you went on a murder spree."

"But regardless, he was somebody I knew. He had a family who loved him."

"I bet they wouldn't have loved him if they'd known what he was."

"Maybe. Maybe not. But why should we decide who deserves to live, and who to die, what is fair and what is not?"

"Deserving? Fair?" he scoffed. "Now you sound like a human. Let me tell you something; there is no such thing as 'fair'. There is just stuff that happens. 'Fairness' is a human concept they came up with because they think the whole universe oughta revolve around them, and they want to justify their places in this crazy thing called life. So you smoked a witch. Big deal. That's what we call a service to humanity."

"Then maybe I am broken," she said. "Because I feel wrong, inside here." She held her hand against where Katie's stomach was.

"How long have you been feeling like this?"

"I don't know. I had to rush the possession of my vessel, and for the first few days after waking from my fight with Zachariah, I felt a little... disjointed. But I've only felt bad since killing the witch."

"Alright." He stood up and flexed his fingers, making his knuckles crack. "Sit still and let Doctor Gabriel take a look at you."

He walked around to the front of the desk and perched on the edge of it before reaching over to place a hand on Ava's head. She felt him rifling through her thoughts, memories and experiences. He made occasional and random remarks; 'Hmm', 'Interesting', and 'I see'. The procedure was not painful, but it did feel like a spider was crawling around inside her mind, its ticklish legs running over her thoughts. At last he pulled his hand away from her head, opened his eyes, and took a step back.

"Well, that explains it," he said.

"What explains what?"

"You're not broken, there's just more than there should be up in your noggin."

"What do you mean?" she demanded, trying to keep the concern from her voice.

"Did you think you could just swear an oath to a human without any repercussions? No, the oath is a two way thing. Bobby gets your obedience, and you get a little taste of humanity."

"You mean... a soul?"

"Nothing so shiny or dramatic. Just a very small reflection of a soul. A peek through the window, if you will. That's why you feel protective towards those Winchesters. That's why you feel squeamish at the thought of killing. You're not quite as angelically ruthless as you should be. You've got yourself a bit of a conscience."

"What's to be done about it?" she asked with a shiver. If this was just a peek at what a soul felt like, how terrible could the real thing be? How was it that humans could still walk around with all of their anger, their guilt, their hope, their love, their doubt, their fear, without burning from the inside out?

"That's up to you," he said, taking his leather seat once more. "You're still an angel. With a little focus and meditation, you could… well… not separate it, because you're bound to it by your oath, but you could section it off. Put it to one side and build a wall around it, to keep it out. It might not be a permanent solution, but it should buy you some time to make other arrangements."

"Alright, how do I do that?"

"Dunno," he shrugged. "It's your mind and your oath. You'll have to figure that one out for yourself, I'm afraid." He shuffled a pile of papers on his desk. "Now if you don't mind, I have a company to run into the ground."

"Where should I go? What should I do?"

"That's up to you. Until you have something on the boys, or until I need you, it's your life."

She nodded, disappointed that he was not going to instruct her, but relieved that she might have chance to work on the soul issue. "Thank you for taking the time to see me, Gabriel," she said, standing up and preparing to teleport.

"Good luck with your little existential quandary."

o - o - o - o - o

The sun rose, and a gong rang three times, the sound echoing around the forested hills of Fukui. The students of the Eihei-ji monastery were already dressed and doing chores when the gong rang for morning meditation, but Ava ignored it. Sitting cross-legged on a woven straw mat on the floor of her room, her attention was focused inward, on herself. She was close, now, to an answer.

Three weeks ago she had come to the temple as a pilgrim, requesting shelter and solitude from the abbot. From the moment it had been granted, and she had donned the long black robes of a Buddhist student, she had observed a vow of silence. And though she had done chores with the other disciples, and attended the single meal of the day with them even though she required no food or water, she spent the rest of the day in deep meditation, either in one of the gardens or in her tiny bedroom.

From listening to the senior monks, she had determined that before she could deal with the future or the present, she had to deal with the past. So in her mind, she had relived everything that had happened to her over the last few months. She had reflected on the rebellion, studied it from all angles, pondered whether it had been the right thing to do at the time. Angels had died, because of her. Because she not only believed in Gabriel, and Bartholomew, but because she believed she was right. She believed that her actions were what God would have wanted, even though she had no way of knowing what her Father desired.

Reconciling her decision had not been easy, and there were moments when she had considered breaking her vow of silence several times to seek wisdom from the monks. But what could they say, to help her through this? What she had done, and what she felt, was in direct opposition to what her Father had made her. She had come to understand that, perhaps, the grigori were flawed. Maybe they always had been. Maybe they were too close to humanity, too influenced by it because they saw too much. How else could so many have fallen, with Samyaza, and Azazel?

She had not realised, at the time of killing Dylan, that the act would force her to question everything that she knew, but in a way, she was lucky that this was happening now, when she had people around who could help her. Although Gabriel seemed content to let her handle her own situation, she knew that Bobby would try to aid her, if she asked for his assistance. But she did not ask. She could not speak to him about what she had done. Not until she discerned what it meant. What everything meant.

And so she accepted that she was flawed. She accepted that, whether God wanted it or not, she had begun to make decisions on her own. She had an opinion. She had thoughts and she was capable of having feelings. She recognised the difference between right and wrong. She understood that if she was going to walk this path, she would have to accept the consequences of her actions. Then, she made a vow to herself. There would be times when she might need to kill. But she would do everything in her power to avoid killing or harming anybody or anything.

She had spoken to Gabriel of becoming a hunter, though it was mostly a casual comment. Now, however, she considered it more seriously. She was just a grigori. To other angels she was weak; an annoying wasp, buzzing around their heads. To arch-angels she was even less; a tiny mosquito. But the wasp and the mosquito had their own weapons, just as she did.

She could not stop the apocalypse. Not on her own. But she could help Gabriel to avert it. She could help to keep humanity as safe as possible, whilst he worked on his plans. And when the apocalypse had been shut down, she would need something else to do. Another way to help the humans. Hunting monsters seemed like the best way to do it, because good hunters were often in short supply. Besides, she had extensive knowledge of dark and demonic things, so it was only natural that she employ her skills and knowledge in such areas.

After accepting her role in Heaven and on Earth, and coming to terms with her part in the rebellion, along with its consequences, she turned her thoughts to Knott. There was no other way she could have stopped Dylan and stopped the drought. The dark magics that many witches used often corrupted them, and Dylan's corruption appeared to have been swift, which meant a powerful demon had been called by the book Dylan spoke of. Because Dylan had destroyed the potion for the counter-spell, his death… the spilling of his blood… was the only way that she had been able to break the destructive ritual. Even if the twins had managed to break the spell, he would only have done it again… or he may have done something worse. He had been beyond saving.

His words, which had not sunk in completely at the time, now troubled her. He'd said that he and his friends had read from the book, and summoned the demon, which had offered them power and rewards for their assistance. Which meant that in all likelihood, there were more of these witches out there, in service to the demon. They were probably casting similar spells in their own towns. And without somebody to stop them, they would only cause more havoc.

With her path made clearer, she turned her thoughts to the subject of souls. They seemed like such troublesome things. Why had her Father put them inside humans? Was a soul the reason why humans were such chaotic, disorderly creatures? Did a soul give a human the power to ask questions, to decide their own fate, to say yes or no and choose another path to walk if their current one didn't suit them? Were souls what made humans so... unique, to her Father?

It was so strange. Humans could do something angels couldn't; they could create more of themselves. They could create new souls from nothing but two haploid cells. Ava knew how reproduction worked; she had seen it enough times to be familiar with the mechanics. What she _didn__'t_ know was how new human beings got souls. Did they grow inside the womb, were they imbued from the souls of the parents, or was it more work of her Father that she could not see? Was there a type of angel, undetectable to her brothers and sisters, which whipped up human souls and then stuck them inside a growing foetus?

It was another thing which wasn't 'fair'. Here humans were, spreading and multiplying wherever they went, whilst the numbers of angels dwindled every day. The fight against Lilith had taken its toll; many of Castiel's garrison, and others in garrisons like his, had died to stop the demon from unlocking the seals on Lucifer's prison, and all for nothing. The arch-angels had betrayed them, sacrificing their subordinates, allowing them to believe they were stopping the apocalypse, when in actual fact they were bringing it to fruition. It was that which had finally convinced Bartholomew to rebel, and one of the reasons why Ava hated Michael and Raphael. That they would allow countless millions of humans to die in the apocalypse was one thing. That they would sacrifice angels to bring it about was completely another. The arch-angels had betrayed Heaven and God. Ava could not stop them, but she could help to derail their plans.

Though it wasn't easy, she was eventually able to locate the 'reflection' of Bobby's soul, which Gabriel had talked about. First she had to separate her own being almost completely from that of Katie, pulling away from the girl's mind, separating herself from everything human. With that accomplished she began searching for anything incongruous, and at last found a very thin gold thread that did not belong to herself or her vessel. It pulsed very slowly, seemingly with a life of its own, and it seemed to resist being grasped. In the end she merely erected a mental barrier around it, separating it from her own silvery-white being. The oath was still in place, she was still bound to obey, but the echo of Bobby's soul was now separated from her. With the barrier in place, she relaxed her hold on Katie, allowing the girl's mind a little more access to consciousness, and opened her eyes.

She felt much calmer, now. Much more at peace with herself. She knew who she was, and where she was going, and she had a good idea about how to get there. For the first time in three weeks she activated her Watcher-vision, and briefly checked up on Bobby and Castiel. Neither was doing anything of import, and neither was with the Winchesters, so she stood up and opened the single drawer of her small bedside cupboard, taking out the clothes she had arrived in. She pulled the student robes over her head and lay them out on the bed, ready for the next person to take this room. Finally clad once more in her normal clothes, she zipped up the empty bag she carried and threw it over her shoulder, and stopped at the door to take one final look around the room. Then she closed the door, and stepped out into the corridor.

Through familiar halls she walked, until she came to a spacious vestibule area which housed a stone statue. This was a daily ritual, for her. Every morning she came here, to look at the statue of the round-faced woman with the elaborate head-dress, but she didn't know why. There was just something about the statue that spoke to her, though not in any voice she could recognise or understand.

When she heard quiet footsteps approach, she looked around and saw the abbot of the temple standing by her side, looking at the statue with her. He wasn't a tall man, only an inch or so taller than her, and his face was heavily wrinkled, his head completely bald.

"You are leaving us," he said quietly, in Japanese.

"Yes," she replied in his own language.

"You have found what you came here to look for?"

"I have."

"Then you are at the beginning of your journey."

"So it would seem."

"This does not mean that you will stop learning. For as long as your eyes and ears are open, every day will bring you new lessons, new wisdom."

She nodded in understanding. Though she had come to accept her past, her present and her immediate future, she knew that there was still much for her to learn. Angels were knowledgeable, but they didn't know everything.

"You come to this statue often," he observed, glancing at her from the corner of his eyes.

"I feel... drawn to it," she admitted. "I don't know why."

"It does not surprise me that you are drawn here. Do you know anything about the statue?"

"No, but I would like to."

"She is Kanzeon, a bodhisattva, an enlightened being or spirit from a higher realm. She has many names, in many languages. In Chinese she is Guanshiyin, '_Observing the cries of the world_'. In English, she would be called '_Goddess of Mercy_'. In Sanskrit, Avalokitasvara, '_She who perceives the world__'s lamentations_'. There are many legends about her."

"What sort of legends?"

"They vary," he explained, "from place to place, and time to time. They mostly follow the same theme, though; Kanzeon is a divine being, or a girl, sometimes the daughter of a king, who has the chance to reside in eternal happiness. But she witnesses the suffering of the people on Earth, or sometimes the souls in Hell, and she turns away from eternal happiness, vowing not to rest until she has broken the cycle of samsara—suffering—for all. She takes on the negative karma of others, sparing them from damnation. Because she has always done so much good in her life, and because she is a source of positive karma, the negative karma does not harm her, as it would a normal man or woman. She forgives those who have harmed or wronged her, and her compassion and mercy are limitless."

"A little like Jesus Christ?" she asked.

"A little. But from what I understand, Jesus was both the son of God, and a man. Kanzeon could be a man, or a woman, or a girl, or a boy… in China, she is sometimes venerated as a tiger. She was not sent to ease the suffering of others, but chooses to do so herself."

"And does she succeed?" she asked. "Does she break the cycle of samsara, and save the world?"

He smiled. "Looking around at all that happens outside the walls of this temple, I'm inclined to believe she's still working on it."

"Do you think she will achieve her goal, in the end?"

"Well, in one of the legends, she is taken to Hell and her mere presence restores some of the suffering souls to Earth, and turns Hell into a paradise. The ruler of Hell fears for his realm, and casts her back out to the Earth, so that she does not destroy all that he has. I like to think that one day she will succeed."

Ava said nothing. Many human cultures had prophecies and legends about 'paradise on Earth', and 'an end to all suffering', and they all differed. At least this Buddhist legend sounded more peaceful than the apocalypse. Why did everything have to end in a final battle? Her Father had created humanity, therefore he had created all religions. Buddhism was no more right or wrong than Christianity or Islam. Everybody had to believe in something; even the atheists clung to their theory of evolution, raising it up on a dais to worship it as truth.

Something the abbot had said suddenly returned to her memory. "Why did you say it doesn't surprise you that I am drawn here?" she asked.

He looked surprised by her words, and gestured to the statue. "You do not know? That is your statue. It depicts you."

She laughed, a genuine expression of mirth, and shook her head. "I am not Kanzeon."

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Of course I'm sure. How could you even think that?"

"Because I can see your face."

She narrowed her eyes at him, trying to decide whether he was being serious or philosophical. It was not the latter, she decided, so she reached out with her hand, touching her fingers to his forehead. In that moment, she saw what he truly was; a vessel for an angel, as yet uninhabited. He might never be claimed, dying free of the responsibility that came with being the host for a celestial being. But simply having the _potential_ to be a vessel afforded him certain abilities; he, like Katie, would be able to hear the true voice of an angel, without going deaf. He would be able to look upon an angel's true form, without going blind.

"So you can," she said. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not Kanzeon."

He simply smiled. "Perhaps you will remember who you are, given time."

"I am an angel, a servant of the Christian God," she said firmly. "Not a goddess of mercy."

"And I am a man," he replied. "I am also an abbot, a father, a leader, a teacher, a grandfather, a student and a follower. Just because I am one thing, does not mean I cannot be others. Which label somebody uses for me, depends on their relationship to me, and how they see me."

"That's an… interesting philosophical view," she admitted. She had never thought of it that way before. She was an angel of the Lord. She had always been an angel of the Lord. The thought that she could be something else, but also still be an angel of the Lord, was… almost alien. "But what if I don't _want_ to be Kanzeon? What if I don't _want_ that responsibility?"

"You will be Kanzeon, or you will not. This will be decided by your nature, not your will."

This conversation was heading into territory Ava did not want to explore. She was slowly coming to accept that she could make her own decisions, that she had free will; the last thing she wanted to do now was consider that her free will was determined or restricted by her underlying nature. It was just too complex for her to process at the moment.

"It's time for me to leave," she said.

"I wish you well on your journey."

"Thank you for your words. I will think about them as I travel."

Her business at the monastery concluded, she teleported.

_- o -_

_Author__'s Note: And so we reach the end of Book 2. A little shorter than Book 1, but it's set the scene for events which will have long-lasting consequences._


End file.
